In December, an unusual notice was pinned up in the entrance hall, one that attracted most everybody's attention. Her classmates all crowded around, Hermione caught up in the throng of them.

"A Dueling Club!" Hermione read, excited. "This will be fun!"

"It's not like Slytherin's monster is going to be able to duel," Terry Boot commented, frowning.

"If it could help people protect themselves against the Heir of Slytherin so the Heir can't call the monster, it wouldn't be a waste," Anthony Goldstein told him. He looked at Hermione and rolled his eyes at Terry, and Hermione smirked. "I'm certainly going."

"I never said I wouldn't go!" Terry objected. "I was just saying—"

At eight o'clock that evening, Hermione headed back up to the Great Hall, along with most of Slytherin House. The long dining tables had vanished, and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, illuminated by thousands of candles floating overhead. It seemed like most of the school had decided to attend, students packed together near the stage.

"Are we going to need dueling partners?" Tracey asked, her eyes wide. "Dibs on Millie!"

"Hey!" Blaise objected.

"No offense, Hermione," Tracey said with a wincing grin, "but I know you'd slaughter me. I'd rather stand a chance against Millie."

"We haven't even started!" Hermione protested. "We don't even know any dueling spells yet!"

Tracey scoffed. "Oh, and when haven't you been the first person to master a new spell?"

Blaise opened his mouth to contribute, only to stop and stare at the stage.

"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned. "Lockhart is the one teaching us?"

Hermione groaned herself, scowling up at the fop dressed in resplendent plum robes.

"At least Professor Snape is with him?" Hermione ventured, as Snape followed Lockhart onto the stage. "He will at least know something helpful, even if Lockhart is utterly useless."

Lockhart waved an arm for silence.

"Gather round, gather round!" he announced. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

He beamed at them all, his smile glinting, and Hermione tried not to glare.

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works." He gave them all a roguish wink.

"He already required all of us to buy them," Millie said, folding her arms. "Does he really think we don't know what he's talking about?"

"Sshh," Tracey hushed her, watching the professor intently. "He's speaking. You can complain later."

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart said, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Two galleons says Snape beats him within three spells," Blaise murmured.

"You're on," Tracey said immediately, smirking. "Two galleons that Snape beats him in one."

"I thought you liked Lockhart," Millie pointed out.

"I like to look at him," Tracey said, shrugging. "He's quite fit, isn't he? That doesn't mean I don't know he's an idiot, but he's still a pretty one."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snickered. Snape's upper lip was curled, his black eyes glinting, and she could practically sense his anticipation to curse Lockhart.

"I wonder if Snape volunteered for this," she said quietly. "I bet a lot of the teachers would love to take a shot at Lockhart."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Blaise snickered.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed, Lockhart with much fanfare and Snape with a short jerk of his head. They then raised their wands like swords in front of themselves.

A hush fell over the crowd.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart said. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

Aiming to kill and accidentally killing someone were only a surprised and shocked expression apart, Hermione mused. Though, she didn't think Snape would actually do that to his colleague, no matter how satisfying it might be to contemplate.

"One— two— three—"

It was over in a flash; they swung their wands, Snape cried "Expelliarmus!" and Lockhart was blasted off his feet, flying backward off the stage, smashing into a wall, and sliding down it to sprawl on the floor. Snape stepped forward and elegantly caught Lockhart's wand, which had gone flying through the air, and Hermione and the other Slytherins broke out into cheers.

"That was brilliant!" Hermione said, laughing and clapping. "Did you see how quick he was?"

"Two galleons to me!" Tracey teased Blaise. "One spell! Told you!"

Blaise rolled his eyes but paid up with good grace.

The Slytherins were still cheering as Lockhart got to his feet unsteadily. Snape looked privately pleased, but he gestured for them to fall silent.

"Well, there you have it!" Lockhart said, staggering back up onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand—"

Snape stepped forward and handed it to him silently.

"Ah, thank you. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape's eyes had turned murderous, and perhaps Lockhart noticed, because he said "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come around and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me— "

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Hermione watched as Lockhart went through the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, but Snape reached Harry first. She could see his lip curl, and a moment later Harry, Neville, and Ron were being marched over to the Slytherins.

"Time to split up the little Lion Trio," Snape said, smiling coldly. "Miss Bulstrode, why don't you partner with Mr. Longbottom over here. Mr. Zabini, let's put you with Mr. Weasley. And Potter…"

Snape paused for a moment. Hermione realized he was looking between her and Draco as a partner for Harry — Draco because of his animosity with Harry, and herself because she was the strongest in the class. She felt a flush of pleasure, even though Snape had said nothing.

"Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. Miss Granger, you can partner Miss Davis."

Tracey groaned, and Hermione stifled a snicker at Tracey's theatrics.

After everyone was paired up, they all spread out, making sure each pair had enough room to have some space to move and cast in.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don't want any accidents — one, two, three!"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cast, mimicking the sharp jab Snape had done with her wand. A blast of red light shot out and hit Tracey, making her stumble back and drop her wand on the floor. She coughed and collected herself, shooting Hermione a dirty look.

"This is why I didn't want to partner with you," she complained. "You always win."

"Then you should have cast it too," Hermione said.

"I did," Tracey muttered. "It just didn't work, okay?"

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm from somewhere above her. Hermione tuned him out.

"Why don't you try now?" she offered. "Make sure you make a jab with your wand, not the flowing swoop Lockhart was doing."

Tracey bit her lip and took a stance and a deep breath. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell felt like a punch to the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of her, but Hermione didn't fall back a step or drop her wand. She gasped and wheezed for a moment, before straightening up.

"That hurt," she told Tracey, and Tracey looked pleased.

"Yours hurt too," Tracey informed her. "Snape blew Lockhart off his feet — we probably should have figured out that these might hurt, you know."

Really, she should have. Hermione had just figured Snape's hatred for Lockhart had played a role in his performance — Defensive spells often ran on emotion, she knew.

"Finite Incantatem!" Snape shouted from above, and Hermione blinked. She turned around slowly, surveying the carnage before her.

A haze of greenish smoke hung over the scene. Both Neville and Millicent were lying on the ground, panting. Blaise looked furious and was holding his hand over his nose, blood dripping through his hands, and Ron was frantically apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done, ashen-faced. Draco and Harry were panting and glaring daggers at each other; Hermione suspected they might have been the ones to cast non-disarming charms on each other first.

With a sigh, Hermione moved through the crowd, reaching Ron and Blaise.

"Broken?" Hermione questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't mean to!" Ron said, panicked. "It was the wand — something blew out of it and—"

"Your wand is a menace," Hermione snarled. "Get a new one. If I need to sponsor it for you just so I don't have to deal with yours in classes anymore, I will." She turned to face Blaise, her tone softening. "I'll need to see your nose in order to set it properly."

Reluctantly, Blaise lowered his hands, his nose and chin a bloody mess. A weak Aguamenti cleared off the most of it, and Hermione reached up to Blaise's face, pausing.

"This is going to hurt," she warned him.

"I wouldn't expect otherwise," Blaise said. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, steeling himself.

With a deep breath herself, Hermione reached up and pushed his nose back into place, ignoring the gross noises it produced, and aimed her wand. "Episkey."

There was a sickening crack and Blaise yelped, but Hermione was satisfied as she saw his nose straighten and reconnect, the cartilage healing without a problem. There was a little more blood that Blaise wiped off with his handkerchief, but he looked pleased.

"Saved me a trip to Madam Pomfrey," he quipped, but Ron was frowning.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Ron demanded, and Hermione shrugged.

"Read it in a book in the Hopsital Wing once," she said. "I think Madam Pomfrey might have demonstrated it to me? It was a year ago or so, now."

Ron looked highly suspicious of her, which made Hermione glare back at him. It was a perfectly acceptable beginner-level spell, and it was a healing spell, which had to be Light magic, if anything. There was no need for him to be glaring at her like that.

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart said, flustered. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes were glinting with malice, and he quickly looked away. "Let's have a volunteer pair — Weasley and Zabini, how about you—"

"A bad idea," Snape said, gliding over. "Weasley's wand causes devastation with even the simplest of spells. Miss Granger's already had to heal Mr. Zabini once. How about Malfoy and Potter?"

Hermione could see Harry tense, but Draco looked excited as they were led up onto the platform. Harry took Lockhart's side, while Draco went over to Snape's. Snape leaned down to speak quietly to Draco, while Lockhart went to talk to Harry.

"Now, Harry," Hermione overheard Lockhart say. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

Lockhart waved his own wand in a complicated sort of squiggle and dropped it, and Hermione smirked, though Harry looked even more nervous now.

"Uh, Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

Draco was muttering something at Harry, who was glaring and muttering back.

"Just do what I did, Harry!" Lockhart said, clapping Harry on the shoulder, and Harry looked outright alarmed.

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three – two – one – go!" he shouted.

Draco raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

It was as if the end of wand exploded; a giant black snake shot out of it and fell heavily onto the floor between them, before raising itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd struggled to back away from the stage, but the students had packed themselves too tightly for anyone to move much.

"Don't move, Potter," Snape said lazily. "I'll get rid of it…"

"Allow me!" Lockhart interrupted. He stepped forward and brandished his wand at the snake, and a moment later there was a loud BANG!

There were screams as the snake flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack! Enraged and hissing furiously, it slithered toward the edge of the stage right toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. Justin shoved at the people behind him in a panic, but they were packed too closely to the stage, and Hermione could see the stark fear in his eyes.

Harry ran toward the snake, but before Hermione could worry for Harry—

…was that hissing?

"No way," Blaise breathed from next to her, his eyes wide. "No. Way."

It was — Harry was hissing at the snake was — and a moment later the snake fell back and slumped in on itself, now looking quite docile but looking at Harry.

Harry looked incredibly relieved and like he might fall over. He turned to Justin with a grin, but Justin looked angry and scared.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hallway, shoving his way through the students who now stood stock-still in shock.

Snape stepped forward and waved his wand, the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape was looking at Harry in a shrewd and calculating way, Malfoy's eyes were huge, and Harry looked confused and slightly frightened as an ominous muttering grew around the walls.

"Ah—an excellent demonstration, Draco—" Lockhart stuttered, not meeting Harry's eyes. "You're both dismissed."

Harry stumbled off the stage, Neville and Ron going to help Harry. Hermione watched as Ron grabbed Harry's robes and began pulling him through the crowd.

"Go," Blaise said, giving her a shove towards Harry, and Hermione stumbled towards them but latched onto Harry's wrist, pushing through the crowds as well. It wasn't as hard as she expected; people were parting around Harry as if frightened of catching something. Harry looked confused, but Ron looked angry and Neville looked scared.

No one said anything until Ron had dragged them all up to the empty Gryffindor common room, pushed Harry into an armchair, and demanded, "Why didn't you tell us you were a Parselmouth?"

"I'm a what?" said Harry, looking at him blankly.

"A Parselmouth!" Ron said. "You can talk to snakes!"

It was like a small lightning bolt struck inside Hermione's skull, and she gasped.

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once—"

"You set a boa constrictor on your cousin?!"

Hermione dimly heard Harry and Ron still talking, something about Brazil, but she was grappling with her sudden realization, a passage echoing in her mind as a new clarity sharpened the words.

And thanne I wende to the snakes, and they spoke to me of their homelands and their ways. The serpents told me of their scales and their slitheryng, and with the death of oon of their grandmothers, they helped welcome me ynto their clutch as a speaker of snake…

"Holy fuck," Hermione breathed faintly. "It's real."

Neville's head whirled around to stare at Hermione.

"Did you just swear?" he demanded, and Hermione flushed.

"I've just had a very surprising realization!" she objected hotly. "I didn't expect to learn it was actually possible for people to speak to snakes!"

"Neither did I," Ron said grimly. "This isn't a common gift, Harry. This is bad."

"What's bad?" Harry said, indignant. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin—"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry said. "You were there—you heard me—"

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything — no wonder Justin panicked. You sounded like you were egging the snake on or something with all the hissing — it was creepy, you know—"

Harry was gaping at Ron.

"I spoke a different language? But I didn't realize — how can I speak a different language without knowing I can't speak it?"

It was magical, Hermione thought faintly. Something innate — once given as a gift, the language would meld with your magic, not like learning French or German, and passed down in your magic to your progeny…

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake from biting off Justin's head?" Harry demanded. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Neville, finally joining in, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry's mouth fell open, and so did Hermione's.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-great-grandson or something–"

"How did I not know this?" Hermione cut in. She turned to Ron. "Are you serious? Slytherin House's mascot is a snake because he could talk to snakes?"

Ron gave her a funny look. "Yes. Why did you think it was a snake, then?"

"I didn't really think it had a reason!" Hermione said, throwing her hands up. "Probably because 'Slytherin' sounded like 'slither', so it seemed thematically appropriate! Slytherin could speak to snakes… oh, this changes everything…"

Ron and Neville were looking at her strangely, but Harry looked relieved; Hermione could tell that he was trusting her, that she had figured out what would save the day—

"Changes what?" Ron wanted to know.

"Listen," Hermione said, forcibly settling herself back down. "Let's go through this logically, okay? First, Harry can speak to snakes."

"Yes," Ron said. "I think that's obvious by now."

"And Harry, the snakes can speak back to you, correct?" she said, pressing.

"Yes," Harry said. "The one in the zoo told me it had never seen Brazil, and I understood it."

"Excellent," Hermione said. "So: Harry can speak to snakes, and Harry can understand snakes when they speak."

"That's exactly what being a Parselmouth means, Hermione," Ron said condescendingly with a scowl, but Hermione ignored him.

"And Harry, you've been hearing voices, correct?" she went on. "Voices only you could hear, ones that Lockhart couldn't hear the first time, and ones that Neville and Ron couldn't hear on Halloween?"

Realization began to dawn on Harry's face.

"You think I've been hearing snakes?" he said.

"A giant snake or serpent of some sort would be my guess," Hermione said. "Something large enough to produce a hiss you'd be able to hear through the walls."

Ron paled.

"What did you say you'd been hearing it say, Harry?" he said. "'Let me tear you'?"

"Let me rip you, let me tear you, let me kill you," Harry repeated, wrenching his face up as he tried to remember. "On Halloween, there was something about being hungry and smelling blood as well…"

"And what," Hermione said, sitting back and folding her arms, satisfied, "would be more appropriate as the Monster of Slytherin than a giant snake only Slytherin's Heir could control?"