lxxi. skulduggery

Midnight revelations, Harriet learned, rarely prove as crystal clear in the morning as they do in our dreams.

She told Hermione and Elara about the conversation shared between the professors in the infirmary, and she also informed them that the voice she heard was, as far as she could tell, a snake. They had difficulty proving her epiphany, however, because though Harriet swore to Merlin she heard a snake, they still had no idea how the blighted thing seemed to be invisible, and doubt grew in their uncertainty.

"Parseltongue doesn't sound different from English to me," Harriet explained as they huddled together in the library. Being a Sunday, there weren't many other students about, but Madam Pince still haunted the place and they didn't have an explanation for the kind of literature they'd accrued at their table, so the trio kept a low profile. Livi poked his nose out from her collar and Harriet gently prodded him back out of sight. "It doesn't even feel different when I speak it."

"That's because Parseltongue is an innate, hereditary anomaly—a dominant phenotype in the magical allele." Met with puzzled looks, Hermione sighed. "It's magic DNA. It's like—having red hair. To a redhead, it's just hair. They couldn't describe how it feels different on their head, now could they? Maybe that's not the best example, but it's magic like the Metamorphmagus gene in the Black family, or the inborn Occlumency of the Sangfort family—but Parseltongue is rarer, and cannot be taught. The only known Parselmouths in Europe were from the fens, and they married into the Peverell family, descended into the Slytherin family, and eventually dwindled to the Gaunts. It gets a bit muddled in the genealogy texts, but both the Minister, Marvolo Gaunt the second, and Professor Slytherin, claim to be Salazar Slytherin's final living descendant. Both are Parselmouths."

"…and then there's me."

"It's odd," Elara remarked, idly flipping through a text. "Because while most every family in magical Britain can somehow trace their lineage back to a Peverell, none of the Potters have ever been Parselmouths. You're more closely related to the Blacks and would have had a better chance of being a Metamorphmagus. As far as I know, there's never been a recorded example of a Muggle-born Parselmouth—or Metamorphmagus, for that matter."

Elara and Hermione shared a significant look—and Harriet stiffened, catching the unspoken implication. "I swear, if one of you suggests my mum had an affair with Professor Slytherin's dad or something, I'll bloody hex you."

"What if Professor Slytherin is your dad?" Elara smirked.

"I'm getting my wand!"

"Shh!"

The three witches paused to look about for Madam Pince, not realizing their voices had risen. "No one is suggesting any such thing, Harriet. We're getting off-topic; you said Parseltongue doesn't sound different from English. So, how do you know it's a snake?"

Harriet finished glowering at Elara and turned her attention to Hermione. "Snakes have a bit of an accent to them—I don't know how else to explain it. It's like…." She grappled for an example, biting her lower lip. "It's like Snape."

"Professor Snape?"

"Over the summer, if we saw him really early in the morning and he was tired, he sounded a bit like a Manc when he was telling us off. He doesn't usually sound like that, but you can tell, if you're looking for it."

Elara frowned, considering, and then nodded. "She's right. I hadn't realized it before, but he does sound somewhat Mancunian when he's irritated."

"That's like Parseltongue. I can't usually tell the difference unless I'm really looking for it, and—well—I wasn't looking for it at first."

"It still makes no sense," Hermione said. "Either way we consider it, snake or wizard, how are they getting about the castle unseen? How are they Petrifying people? For what reason?"

"Livius can be invisible," Elara pointed out.

"Yes, but last I checked, Horned Serpents can't Petrify people."

Harriet glanced at the lump snoozing on her chest and pulled her collar out, peeking at Livi. "Hey," she hissed. "Can you Petrify people?"

"What isss Petrify?"

"Make them like stone."

"Ssstupid. Ssstone isss not good for eating."

Harriet smoothed her collar again and glanced at her friends, who watched the exchange with raised brows. "He says stone people would be gross, so I'm guessing that's a no."

"How very reassuring."

Hermione slammed a thick tome closed. "I can't find any mention of any invisible snakes aside from a few vague notations on Horned Serpents." Hermione's gaze dropped to Harriet's shirt with a displeased grimace. "And they're very rare. The Magical Menagerie is still offering a reward for Livius' return."

"Really? Maybe I'll sell him back—because the joke's on them, he does what he wants."

Elara snorted and Harriet giggled, but Hermione's frown intensified. "This isn't funny," she said. "I heard from a Gryffindor at breakfast that Colin Creevey is a Muggle-born. I'm a Muggle-born. This is directly related to the Chamber, and whoever opened the Chamber did so to hurt Muggle-borns!"

The younger witches sobered. "I apologize, Hermione. You're right, it's not funny—but the Chamber itself might be a rouse. Someone with a grudge against Muggle-borns—and Professor Slytherin, apparently—might be claiming they opened the Chamber to discredit his name and detract attention from themselves."

"What if the Chamber has one of these in it?" Harriet said, spinning around her opened text to point out a picture of a serpentine woman who didn't seem to appreciate being pointed at very much. Vipers and cobras adorned her skull in an intricate weave of scales and fangs, the woman's golden eyes wide and furious, her mouth too wide and filled with far too many teeth. "A Gorgon? They Petrify people!"

"Gorgons are a Dark creature, and the only time one has ever been seen outside of Greece was in the fifteen-hundreds, when they brought one as part of a school tournament."

"Wh—what type of bloody tournament is that?!"

Hermione ignored the question. "It's true they Petrify people, but they have a notorious hatred for all wizards and witches alike—pure-blood, half-blood, or otherwise. It wouldn't explain how it's getting about, or why we haven't seen a dozen other people get Petrified as well."

"…a Gorgon in an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Honestly, Harriet."

The bespectacled witch took back Most Macabre Monstrosities with a sigh and turned the page. The next entry depicted a large and ghastly looking creature not unlike an eel—a basilisk, the proclaimed "King of Serpents." Harriet skimmed through the text, and though she noted some speculation on the serpent's extreme longevity and hatred for poultry, nothing was noted about Petrification. They were monstrous in size, and Harriet thought someone would be dead if something as terrifying as a basilisk was loose in the school.

"The professors know something they aren't telling us," Hermione muttered with a mutinous glance toward the library's entrance, making sure Pince wasn't about. "I think they know where the Chamber is, and they know what's been let out. It would make sense, it being Slytherin's chamber, if a snake of some kind came slithering out of it."

"It's been a thousand years, Hermione. Snakes don't live that long."

"Perhaps he left a colony of some kind behind, and they've reproduced."

"That's possible."

Hermione had a fervent look in her eyes as she leaned over the table, her voice lowered. "I don't think it's right they're keeping information to themselves, especially when it pertains to Muggle-borns. I want to know what they know. I…I want—." She licked her lips, visibly anxious, and whispered, "I want to spy on them."

Elara was the first to break the answering silence. "No thanks, I'd like to live."

"Elara!"

"I'm serious. You say them, but you clearly mean Slytherin, and anyone willing to spy on the man must be cracked."

"This is something I have to do." Elara opened her mouth and Hermione cut her off. "You had to have me make that potion for you, regardless of legality, and you—." She pointed at Harriet, who froze as if Stunned. "You had to hex Professor Slytherin to prove a point, so I assume you both understand when I say this is simply something I cannot drop or ignore. I'm going to pursue this, with or without you."

"All right, all right," Harriet placated, calming her friends down. Hermione was beginning to look like a furious, puffed up cat. "We'll help—we will," she added with a kick to Elara's chair. The Black heir grimaced. "But I don't see what we could do."

"You have your Invisibility Cloak."

"You mean the one Snape can see through with his funny eye?"

"That—that is a valid point, actually." Hermione deflated, scowling at the books as if they'd betrayed her. "There has to be some way…."

She devolved into a muttering fit, and Elara glanced at Harriet, whispering, "This is mad, you know."

"I know."

"She wants us to eavesdrop on professors."

"I know," Harriet repeated, shrugging. "She's right about them not telling us something. You can't say you're not curious, too—and this is Hermione. If she has a plan, it'd be brilliant."

Elara grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Brilliantly stupid," and Harriet kicked her chair again, bruising her own toes. It was about that time that Madam Pince came around, shooing lingering students out of the library, ordering them off to supper. The trio of Slytherin witches stacked their books together and hurried them back to their respective shelves, then wandered back into the school.

"If we can't be invisible," Hermione said, speaking slowly, gathering her thoughts. "Then we could, perhaps, alter our appearances."

"Is there magic that does?"

"Oh, there's plenty of minor and major glamors—but I hazard a guess that Professor Snape might be able to see through them. Most of the staff can at least detect them, and most are very complicated—. Anyway, any kind of disguise we wanted to use would have to be physical." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled at it, lost in thought. "The best solution I can envision is the Polyjuice Potion."

Harriet didn't know what a Polyjuice Potion was, but Elara did, because she looked askance at Hermione and asked, "Do you actually have the recipe for that?"

"Well, no. It's in Moste Potente Potions, isn't it? It's kept in the Restricted Section, and only N.E.W.T students—or someone with a teacher's note—can check it out."

Elara sighed and glanced heavenward. "Do you honestly think you can brew the potion?"

Hermione bristled. "What kind of question is that?"

"Then I'll get the book," Elara said, ignoring Hermione's hurt look. "I'm not doubting your ability, I'm asking you honestly. If you think you can brew it, then I will get the book."

"How are you going to manage that?"

"You'll see."

Harriet just shook her head. She really didn't like the sound of this spying stuff, but Hermione helped her all the time, and if this was something the other witch needed, then Harriet would do whatever she could for her. Even if it meant participating in some dodgy eavesdropping.

Journeying on toward the Great Hall, she realized the volume of voices grew louder and louder, loud enough to warrant a puzzled glance between the three friends.

"What d'you think's going on?"

"…Perhaps someone else has been Petrified."

Hermione stole a sharp breath. "Hurry, let's go."

As it turned out, no one had been Petrified; instead, the commotion arose from the presence of a new person seated at the High Table next to Professor Dumbledore.

"Is that—?"

"That's Gilderoy Lockhart!" Hermione said, cheeks glowing pink. "Holy cricket, why is he here?"

Harriet didn't know, but as they found their seats at the Slytherin table, she studied the blond wizard speaking rapidly to the Headmaster. Every so often he gave his hand an airy flip, and he used his blinding white smile to maximum effect. It seemed almost every girl in the hall was staring at the bloke, and when Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair, it took several minutes and a rather fierce reprimand from Snape to quiet everyone down. "Good evening! Before we partake in our excellent dinner this evening, I have an announcement to make. Please join me in welcoming Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, who has been sent by our esteemed Minister for additional security while we investigate threats made against our students' safety. Welcome, Gilderoy!"

Professor Dumbledore started clapping, followed less enthusiastically by the staff—but notably not the majority of the Slytherin staff. Professor Slytherin himself watched Dumbledore and the gaudy wizard in robin's egg blue robes from the corner of his red eyes, his posture stiff and unwelcoming. Both Snape and Selwyn sat grim and upright like naughty children waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the other professors, though polite, brought their hands together and didn't look at all relieved.

"Thank you, Headmaster!" Lockhart said, reaching out to clap a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Nothing to fear now, I must say! The Minister himself chose me to deal with this Chamber nonsense, and you can be sure, with me on the watch, this will be sorted in a trice! I'll be on patrol, and if any of you have anything suspicious to report—or maybe just want an autograph from yours truly—." He tipped them all a wink, and Harriet saw a Hufflepuff seventh year fan herself, giggling. "Don't be afraid to come find me."

Harriet remembered then a bit of conversation between Dumbledore and McGonagall, talking about petitioning the Ministry for Aurors. The Minister sent…Lockhart? Lockhart wasn't an Auror, was he?

The older girls tittered and whispered, boys looking at them like they'd gone out of their gourds. Harriet didn't understand. The bloke was pretty, but he was also very…shiny, offensively glittery—and, after making her way through Gadding with Ghouls, Harriet was almost entirely certain Lockhart ripped off Muggle literature to write his books. It was made-up, fantasy stuff. She couldn't be the only one who knew that—so why would the Minister send Lockhart when Professor Dumbledore asked the Ministry for Aurors?

They ate their dinner amid excited chatter, finished, and though they needed to be in their dorms soon, Harriet urged her two friends out to one of the outer courtyards first. In the cold, low light of the gloaming hour, Harriet pulled Livi out from under her shirt, and the serpent complained bitterly of the chill before he moved off—invisible—into the sparse woods abutting the courtyard for exercise and something to eat.

"He's getting too big to be under your clothes," Elara remarked after several minutes of silent contemplation, her arms crossed and her gaze speculative.

Harriet sighed. "Hagrid's been encouraging me to make him hunt more and not just feed him off the table. You'd think he'd be getting less food, right? But he's gotten bigger."

"Perhaps it's an intrinsic trigger of his magic," Hermione said, coming out of her blush-fueled daze. "A survival mechanism encouraging growth to capture larger and more fulfilling prey."

"Maybe."

Hermione changed the subject. "That was…an interesting dinner. You did say Professor Dumbledore requested someone come from the Ministry?"

"Yeah, but I thought he wanted an Auror or someone better."

"Better? Mr. Lockhart is—! Is very qualified! And—!"

"Pretty?" Harriet guessed, smirking when Hermione's face flamed again.

"Looks have nothing to do with it!" she barked. "Just look at all he's done!"

Elara, still gazing into the distance, had a puzzled look upon her face and didn't join in on Harriet's teasing.

"Hermione, that stuff he writes is all fiction, y'know?"

"It couldn't be. There—. Someone would have noticed, Harriet."

Harriet shook her head and crossed the courtyard, hissing until Livi chose to come slithering back, unsuccessful in his hunt and peeved for having been made to rouse his lazy bones. "I noticed, didn't I?"

Her comment gave Hermione something else to stew over besides wondering what information the professors meant to keep from the school and students. Harriet hid Livi away again, tugging her cloak about her shoulders, and they returned to their common room. The trio brought out their homework, pushing aside dark, anxious thoughts about possible monsters in the castle—and though she was comforted by the familiar glow of the silver lanterns and the lake's deep murmurs, Harriet couldn't quite forget the feel of Colin Creevey's Petrified skin against her own.

Danger lurked somewhere in Hogwarts—danger that Harriet feared she and her friends might escape unscathed.

A/N: I highly doubt anyone knew that indirect eye contact with a Basilisk only Petrified a victim. There'd be no feasible way for wizards to test what would happen, and according to Newt Scamander in the Fantastic Beasts text, Basilisks hadn't been seen in England for some 400 years. There wasn't anything about Petrification in the Most Macabre Monstrosities entree.

Anyway, some other notes real quick: I've had a few reviewers comment about Set and why I don't include him more. No, I haven't forgotten him (I promise). He's just not a major character, honestly, and his significance doesn't get explored until later in the series. I'll work on including him more simply as a point of interest, but for the most part, if Harriet's around people, he's not there. Another note, I've had some requests for a summary of events, and I've decided I'll make sure to include one at the beginning of each new part/year. So, we won't see it for awhile, but I hope it will be helpful! Thank you all so much for your reads, time, and reviews!