Summary of the last chapter:
Lockhart sets up a duelling club, in which Harry accidentally exposes himself as Parselmouth. Another heart-to-heart with Professor Snape ensues, during which Harry tells him of the mysterious snake he's been hearing in the walls. Severus consults with the headmaster who is shocked about Harry's snake-speaking abilities and the fact that Harry has a pet snake named after Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Investigations
After the big discovery that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth, suspicions that he was the Heir of Slytherin reached a new high. Harry was immensely relieved that his friends stood by him even so. Hermione didn't quite understand what the fuss was all about - she thought it was a cool skill to have. Neville explained to her what Hagrid had told Harry as well: that the ability to speak with snakes was usually associated with dark wizards, but that it obviously couldn't be true, as Harry certainly wasn't dark. Hermione had promptly launched into research and found out that in most countries where snakes were abundant, Parseltongue was a respected ability and common enough, which totally made sense to her. And that was the end of the matter, as far as his friends were concerned.
The twins, on the other hand, found the whole thing hilarious. Not the petrification of Colin, of course, but the fact that at least half the school seemed convinced that Harry was a dark wizard. They treated him like some kind of celebrity whenever they saw him in the corridor, shouting nonsense like 'This way comes the Heir of Slytherin!', 'Attention! Dark evil wizard coming this way!' or exaggeratedly bowing to him. It wasn't helpful.
Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy Harry had tried to save from the snake, was particularly fearful of Harry and all but ran away when he was near. Padme Patil was not helping matters either, reminding all of Hogwarts that Harry owned a poisonous viper and had even brought it into class with him last year.
Suddenly everybody seemed to believe that Harry had only defeated the dark wizard who was possessing their former DADA professor because he was a dark wizard himself who didn't want the competition. The fact that he had defeated a powerful wizard as a baby was probably a sign of his immense dark powers. They all should have known the moment he was sorted into Slytherin.
Even Dumbledore wasn't looking at Harry with his benevolent, grandfatherly smile anymore. He smiled, alright, but it looked as if he had a stomach ache.
"I wish there was some way to prove that I'm not Salazar's heir!" said Harry, frustrated by all of this, especially as there seemed to be no way to clear his name.
"I guess you could do a DNA test to prove that you're not related to Slytherin," suggested Hermione, "provided there is still DNA of Salazar left somewhere. But even if that came out clear, I doubt wizards would accept it as proof."
"What's a 'Deanne A' test?" asked Neville interestedly.
Hermione shook her head. "There you have it. Forget about it, Neville, it won't help. We'll have to concentrate our efforts on finding the real culprit. Let's go over the list of graduates once more and see if any more matches come up."
Each of them had written down the names of students in their own houses, as far as they knew them. It was a bit harder with the upper years, as they usually didn't mingle with the 'little kids'. They had subtly tried to listen in on their conversations and get their names, but only Harry had been pretty successful, given that he had his invisibility cloak. None of them knew much about the Hufflepuffs though.
"It's unlikely that the person attacking fellow students is a Hufflepuff anyway," said Neville. "They're just too kind to do such a thing."
"Really? What about Zacharias Smith? Surely there are others like him among the badgers."
Neville had to concede the point. "I guess we'll have to make do with what we have and hope that he's the exception to the rule."
Harry had dutifully copied down all the names from the books and was relieved when Hermione told him that he wouldn't have to copy them three times, as she knew a copying charm for parchment.
As it turned out, she actually meant 'parchment', not notebook paper. "Come on, what's the difference – parchment or paper?" asked Harry, when the charm refused to work.
Hermione put her finger to her lips. "I don't think it's the paper. Paper is made from wood which is a natural material as well. I think it's the biro you used. That's Muggle. And the ink used in a biro is obviously not the same as regular ink."
"You've got to be kidding me! The copying charm can't read biro, or what?"
"It's tricky to charm Muggle items. It's often not possible at all, like with anything made of plastic. Anything chemically engineered into a form that does not exist in nature can't be charmed. Why do you think it's so difficult to use lengthening or shortening charms on Muggle clothes? Why do you think wizards exclusively use materials such as wool for their clothes, or build stuff from wood?"
"Arthur Weasley obviously charmed his Muggle car to be able to fly!"
"Yes, and I have no idea what he had to take out or adapt in order to make it work. It's tricky at best and often leads to unexpected results, which is why the law he introduced himself forbids tinkering with Muggle items. In any case, it's not something I can do. Arthur probably has a few more tricks up his sleeve, and I know from the twins that he has been working on that car quite a long time. For all we know it might not even have a motor anymore."
"So you're telling me that this whole nonsense of writing with quills on parchment is not just a stupid quirk of wizards or due to some sentimentality?"
"I think the reason behind it is that you can put all kinds of charms on them: replication charms, sorting charms, conservation charms, even correction charms. And as you see, I can't do that with the list you wrote."
Harry moaned. "So I'll have to copy it once again? With a quill and ink?"
"Unless you own a fountain pen, yes. But you'll only have to do it once. I can then make a copy for Neville."
"Great!" said Harry, a bit sarcastically, to then address Tom: "You know, if you had hands, I'd demand you do it. It was your idea after all to use a pen and paper."
"Hey! I just meant to help! How was I supposed to know that? Just because I read a lot doesn't mean I know everything. The syllabus in charms is in dire need of an overhaul! This seems like rather fundamental information, and we really should have been given it."
"It's only useful to Muggleborns. A pureblood would never have considered using a biro in the first place. They'd just do what they've been used to doing for centuries. Probably don't want to risk anything new in case it upsets their spellwork. It finally explains the old-fashioned trunks and the old-fashioned everything."
Ill-humoured, Harry started copying the list once again, while Hermione and Neville dug into the archive of the Daily Prophet once more.
"I have interesting news on the Gaunts," Hermione announced, just as Harry was finished. She showed them two newspaper articles she had found. "Apparently, they have both come into conflict with the law. Marvolo Gaunt was briefly sentenced to Azkaban for attacking Ministry personnel in 1925. Apparently, the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, Bob Odgen, came to their home because Marvolo's son Morfin had repeatedly attacked Muggles. Both reacted violently, so that reinforcements had to be brought in. Both were arrested and put to trial. Marvolo was sentenced to six months in Azkaban; Morfin, who according to the writer of this article isn't fully right in the head, got a three year sentence. By the time he was released, he was the head of house, as Marvolo had died."
"Wow, that's quite the downfall for a pureblood family so proud of their heritage!" said Neville.
"Shocking," agreed Tom. "I guess if Salazar Slytherin knew, he'd be turning in his grave."
"I don't think there was ever anything to be proud about," said Hermione in response to Neville's remark. "They lived in a run-down shack and had no money to speak of. And it got worse: In 1943, Morfin was arrested again – this time for killing his Muggle neighbours, a family of three."
"Wasn't that the year the chamber was opened? Funny coincidence!"
"You think it could've been him?" wondered Hermione. "Was Morfin the heir?"
Harry shook his head. "No, there was no Gaunt on the list of Hogwarts students. After copying it two times, I'm sure of that."
"Maybe we should check out earlier years to find out when Morfin and Marvolo graduated."
"Didn't you say he was deranged? He might not have attended Hogwarts at all."
"True. Let's search the older books and see what comes up."
Luckily, they found out that the indexing charm Madame Pince had showed Hermione to search the different editions of the Daily Prophet for something specific worked on the graduation records as well. Otherwise, it would have been very time consuming to check all the records dating back to 1900.
They didn't find any Gaunts in there.
"Marvolo might appear in older records, wherever they are kept," said Hermione. "But Morfin should have been in here if he attended Hogwarts at all, just like his sister."
"His sister? Do we know that he had one?"
"The article briefly mentioned a younger sister named Merope, who was present when Marvolo and Morfin attacked Odgen. Her name never came up again."
"How much younger?"
"It didn't say," answered Hermione. "But she was probably at least in her teens. Morfin accused her of making eyes at a Muggle. A really bad crime in his eyes."
Harry sighed. "I guess the Gaunts aren't a good example to prove that Parselmouths can be decent citizens," he said unhappily. "I kind of understand why they have a shady reputation if that's the last Parselmouth still remembered – apart from Voldemort. How do you think he fits into all of this? Is he a descendant of Slytherin, too? Where did Voldemort come from?"
"I don't think anybody knows," said Neville. "From what I heard, he came to Britain from abroad, though it's never been mentioned anywhere that he wasn't British."
"Then maybe it's true that Salazar had kids after he left the Isles. There might be another branch of descendants we know nothing of in France, Spain or wherever. It might explain why I can speak Parsel as well: A witch or wizard from abroad married into the Potter line at some point. Maybe the ability to speak Parsel lies dormant for generations."
"Yes, I think that's a very likely possibility. Unfortunately, it doesn't take us any further in finding the mysterious heir. There's no direct descendent as far as anyone knows. And if we go with the theory of a distant line in France or even Russia, we have multiple new suspects: Avery, Malfoy, Lestrange and Dolohov. There are students from all of these families on your list."
"You're right," said Harry glumly. "We won't find him like this."
"It's not your job to find him in the first place," Tom reminded Harry firmly. "It should be the job of those Aurors, who are like Muggle police, right? I wonder why they haven't been called to investigate."
"Good question. We'll have to ask Professor Snape next time we have a chat with him."
*'*'*'*'*'*'*
About a week before Christmas break, winter truly came to Hogwarts in the form of a mighty blizzard. It had started out with mild snowfall in the night and intensified with dawn. The snow was coming down so thickly that even the light in the castle was muffled.
Harry dressed warmly when he went down to breakfast. Their first class of the day was Herbology, and walking out to the greenhouses was going to be tough. Thankfully, it turned out that they didn't have to. Professor Sprout got up from the head table when they were still munching their eggs, sausages and toast and announced that this morning's Herbology class was cancelled, as she needed to put scarves on the Mandrakes. The 2nd years cheered over the unexpected free period, while the first years who had class after them threw them jealous glances. Harry caught the gaze of Ginny Weasley from across the hall, who promptly blushed and looked away.
"I think she has a crush on you," commented Tom with barely hidden amusement. "I've seen her watching you a couple of times already. Sometimes with something like longing or sadness, sometimes with anger. I think she's upset because you never show any reaction to her."
"Reaction?" Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. "What reaction am I supposed to show? I'm twelve! She's even younger! And girls are just … ick!"
"I dare you to say that to Hermione's face!"
"I don't mean Hermione! She's not a girl. I mean, of course she's a girl but not like that. She's – normal. Not blushing all the time or blinking her eyes in a funny way."
"She was looking at Lockhart like Ginny is looking at you," Tom argued. "Though thankfully, she has stopped doing so. She's too smart not to notice what an incompetent moron that man is."
When Harry got up to join Neville at the Gryffindor table, he noticed that Justin almost jumped from his chair to get away from him when Harry walked by – as if he'd been about to attack him or something. Did he truly believe Harry meant him any harm? Why, for heaven's sake? He hadn't even spoken five words to the boy.
"Maybe that's why," mused Tom. "He thinks you hate him."
Harry rolled his eyes and slipped into the seat next to Neville, where he was soon joined by Hermione. "Justin is just too ridiculous," he complained. "What does he think I'll do? Petrify him while walking by?"
"You know, if it bothers you so much, maybe you should just go and speak with him," suggested Hermione, as often, very much in tune with Tom. "Tell him what really happened. Maybe he'll see reason."
Harry pondered that while the tables around him rapidly cleared, as allbut the second years were heading to classes. Harry's gaze crossed Ginny's once more, who promptly blushed again and made a hasty escape as well. It didn't even make any sense. If she liked Harry (which she couldn't, really, as she didn't even know him) one would think she'd take every chance she got to talk to him. At least, that's what Harry would do if he liked a girl.
Overwhelmed with the possibilities of an unexpected double period of leisure time, the friends spent some time discussing what they should do with it. They finally decided to make use of the empty Great Hall to play a board game. Hermione ran to Ravenclaw tower to get it, and soon, they had sat up Labyrinth on the table and were busy finding their way through the maze.
Harry, however, was distracted. He couldn't get the weird reaction of Justin out of his mind. His friends had no convincing explanation for his behaviour.
"He's concerned because he's a Muggleborn," said Neville. "He told me he was accepted to Eating or something before getting his Hogwarts letter – a very prestigious Muggle school, he said."
"You mean Eaton!" Hermione was impressed. "That's very prestigious indeed. I don't know what I would have done! Magic or having the chance to go there … what a difficult decision!" She fell silent, obviously going over the non-existent options in her head and weighing the pros and cons of each.
"Go, Harry," Neville encouraged him. "Talk to Justin. It will at least set your mind at ease. We'll play another round, just the two of us, before the next lesson."
Harry nodded and got up. Then he hesitated. "Where will I even find him?"
"Try the library. A bunch of Hufflepuffs were heading that way."
"Will do! See you in Transfiguration!"
Harry soon found the group Neville had spoken of at one of the bigger library tables. Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot were discussing yesterday's events. Sadly, Justin was missing. Not seeing Harry approach, Ernie was just explaining to the girls how it totally made sense that Harry was behind the attacks on Filch and Colin. Filch was a Squib. In Salazar Slytherin's eyes, this was supposedly just as bad as being a Muggleborn, and the heir would make sure to get rid of them. Colin had not only been a Muggleborn, but had got on Harry's nerves. Everyone knew that. And given that Hermione wasn't truly a Muggleborn, the only remaining one in their year was Justin, which was the reason he believed himself to be next on Harry's list.
It was ridiculous, even so, and it irked Harry to no end. He walked over to their table, and all the Puffs got all wide-eyed and nervous.
"Excuse me!" said Harry politely. "Would you happen to know where I might find Justin?"
"What do you want with him?" asked Ernie challengingly. It was kind of brave if he really believed what he had just told his classmates.
"Tell him your snake is hungry and you thought he'd make a good snack," Tom suggested helpfully.
"I'd like to speak with him and explain what happened yesterday," Harry said, trying not to grin at his friend's unhelpful comment. They'd probably think he was up to something sinister if he did.
Ernie said they all had seen what had happened and wouldn't believe a word of what Harry said. "He won't speak to you. He's hiding in his dorm, trying to stay out of your way."
"But that's utterly ridiculous!" Harry burst out. When Ernie noticed Harry's agitation, he quickly assured him of his pureblood status 'before Harry got any ideas' - which got Harry even more upset.
"As if I care about your stupid blood!" he shouted angrily and stormed out of the library – only to collide with a huge figure who had just come up the stairs.
"Oh, hello Hagrid!" Harry's gaze wandered up to the face of the half-giant, who looked especially intimidating with the woollen, snow-covered scarf he had wrapped, balaclava-style around his head, and the dead rooster dangling from his gloved hand.
"Hi there, Harry. What's the matter? Yeh look all ou' of sorts …"
"It's nothing. Just some stupid discussions with Hufflepuffs who think I'm out to kill them. What about you? What's with the rooster?".
Hagrid looked at it with regret. "That's the second dead one. Don't know what's been killin' 'em. Must be foxes or a Blood-sucking Bloodbear. Someone's got to put up a charm around the hen coop."
"Well, good luck then. I'm off to Transfiguration."
Hagrid waved him good-bye, and Harry continued on, up the stairs to the third floor and around a corner into the classroom corridor that only had windows at each end of its length. With the snow still falling thickly outside, it was particularly dark in here, especially since the torches weren't burning for some reason.
His eyes were still adjusting to the bad light when Harry stumbled over something on the floor. Shocked, he scrambled to his feet again and turned to see what he had fallen over. Tom gasped. It was the body of Justin Finch-Fletchley, stiff as a board. Beside him, closer to the alcove on his right, was something else that Harry had trouble identifying at first. It was a dark and smokey version of the once pearlescent Gryffindor ghost, Nearly-Headless-Nick. Untypical for a ghost he was also lying flat on the floor – or rather, a few inches above it.
While Harry and Tom were both still staring, dumbfounded, at the two new victims on the floor, Peeves came floating up the staircase. Seeing Harry, his face turned into a wicked, slightly deranged grin. "Why, it's Potty wee Potter, getting into mischief!" Then he blew up his cheeks and screamed at the top of his lungs: "Attack! Attack! Slytherin's Heir has felled another Mudblood!"
Left and right, classroom doors flew open as teachers and students came out to investigate. Within seconds, there was the chaos that Peeves so loved creating: Some students fled, others arrived at the scene and Professors tried to reestablish order. Among those who came up the staircase for their next lesson were Hermione and Neville, but also Ernie Macmillan.
"Caught in the act!" he shouted, an accusing finger pointed at Harry, who just stood there, shaking his head, not knowing what to say.
Tom, as usual, recovered a bit faster than Harry. "The adequate thing to say would be: 'It wasn't me' or even 'this isn't what it looks like'. But honestly, I think it'd be a waste of breath."
Professor McGonagall, with resolute crisis management, got Peeves to shut up chanting nasty rhymes about Harry, arranged for Justin and Nearly-Headless-Nick to be transported to the hospital wing (it proved a bit tricky to transport the ghost) and for students to head to their next classes.
Then she turned to Harry and told him to follow her to the headmaster's office.
*'*'*'*'*'*'*
To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall led him to an alcove with a huge statue resembling an eagle. Harry was confused, until the Professor said a password, which caused the gargoyle to slowly turn and move upwards. Like a corkscrew, a spiral staircase rose from the ground, which they stepped on. Winding higher and higher, it transported them up a tower like an escalator.
At the top was a door and behind it lay a most beautiful office consisting of what seemed to be three towers attached to each other. The walls in the circular antechamber were hung with portraits right up to the ceiling. Two steps that covered an entire section of another circle led up to an impressive desk with an equally impressive chair behind it. Here, the walls were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, with another two iron staircases left and right leading up to the landing of another tower.
Professor McGonagall told him to wait and vanished to somewhere beyond the desk, an area divided from the rest of the room by arches and curtains and another set of steps going down.
Harry was awed, a feeling that was mirrored by Tom. There was so much to see that Harry wished he could spend some time here in leisure, just to look around. On both sides of a huge fireplace, beneath all the portraits, showcase cabinets lined the walls. They were filled with things Harry couldn't even begin to describe. Metal objects, brass, gold and silver ones, some of them moving or emitting a soft whirring noise, others ticking or rotating.
High on a shelf, Harry spotted the Sorting Hat. Behind Dumbledore's desk was a perch that had an ill looking bird on it. In fact, it looked very much like a half-plugged turkey. Just when Harry had noticed it, it made a pitiful gagging noise, and a few more feathers fell from its body. Then, all of a sudden, the whole bird burst into flames.
"That must be a phoenix!" said Tom, fascinated to see a bird he had read about in real life. "They rise again from the ashes."
And right – Harry could see, only moments later, a tiny chick peek its head out of the pile of black dust on a tray beneath the perch. While he was still staring at the baby bird, Dumbledore stepped back into his office, followed by Professor McGonagall.
"I see you met Fawkes, my familiar," he said in way of greeting. "Too bad you get to first meet him on such a bad day." Harry wasn't sure if he was referring to the end of the bird's life cycle or the petrification of Justin. Before Harry could say anything in his defence, the door to the office burst open once more, and Hagrid stomped into the room, telling the headmaster right on entering that he had met Harry just moments before Justin was found, and that Harry couldn't possibly have had the time to do whatever the heir did to petrify his victims. To Harry's surprise, the Headmaster seemed to accept that without further questions asked.
"I know, Hagrid. I don't think that Harry attacked all those people." Despite that surprising vote of confidence, the headmaster's eyes came to rest on Harry with a pensive expression. "Harry, my boy, is there anything on your mind that you'd like to tell me?"
Harry's only thought was that he had something IN his mind that he DIDN'T want to tell Dumbledore about. He lowered his gaze, just to make sure he couldn't even catch a glimpse.
"He has a really beautiful office," Tom offered, looking around the room interestedly, also avoiding the headmaster's eyes.
"I'm sure that' s not what he's hoping to hear," Harry replied to Tom. In response to the headmaster he just shook his head. He didn't know any more about what was going on in Hogwarts than anybody else.
The headmaster sighed. "I'm afraid we have a difficult situation at hand. The fact that you are a Parselmouth has shocked quite many students at Hogwarts, as it is a common belief that only descendants of Salazar Slytherin are able to speak it."
"That's stupid," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "There are a lot of Parselmouths in India, for example. Surely they can't all be descendants of Slytherin?"
"No, I would guess not .…" Dumbledore sounded a bit surprised.
"Am I related to Salazar Slytherin?"
"Also no. The Potters descended from Ignotus Peverell, whose brother Cadmus intermarried with the Gaunts. They descended from Salazar Slytherin. Interestingly, one family member of the Gaunts was named Marvolo. I heard that's the name you gave to your snake?"
Harry nodded.
"May I ask how you came to choose that particular name?"
Harry shrugged. "The name just popped up in my mind. I'm sure I read it in a book."
"Wow, Harry!" applauded Tom. "You're getting so much better at lying!"
"I didn't lie. You made the name pop up. And I did read it in a book, though admittedly much later."
"I see," said Dumbledore. Did he sound a bit disappointed? What answer had he expected? "Well, I'm afraid nothing we can say will keep the rumours at bay, as you have the bad luck to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Unless it's not bad luck at all," said a smooth voice from the door. They all turned to see Professor Snape, who had stepped into the office. "It might be that the true culprit's intent is to make Harry look suspicious. With him being in Slytherin and being a Parselmouth, he's the ideal scapegoat, as people are too foolish to understand that no second year could have done that to a ghost."
"That might be the case, Severus, but it's not helping Harry. I suggest that you try and avoid being alone until the culprit is found. That way, you'll have an alibi."
"Great," muttered Tom. "No more privacy until God knows when."
"We don't really have any privacy anyway, unless you count going to the loo," argued Harry. "It's not going to make a difference. And if I really need to go somewhere alone, I still have my invisibility cloak."
"You better advise all students to not go anywhere alone," suggested Professor McGonagall. "There might be safety in numbers. All those who were attacked were alone at the time."
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. That seems advisable. And I will have to inform Justin Finch-Fletchley's parents that his son won't be on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow.
"Oh dear. What will he tell them?" wondered Tom. 'Sorry to tell you, but your son has been petrified and will remain so until summer. No, you can't take him home, the neighbours might find it odd. But don't you worry, he's no bother as he doesn't need attending to in his stony state anyway.'"
"His parents must be frantic. If it were my son, I definitely wouldn't let him come back after that."
"Maybe Professor McGonagall leaves Muggle parents with a brochure when she makes her initial visit," Tom mused. "'How a Muggle Parent Should View Periodic Disaster Notices from Hogwarts - It's Not as Bad as You Think!'"
Harry suppressed a snicker at this. It would give a bad impression, and the situation wasn't really funny. "Given that Colin's and Justin's parents are Muggles, they can't even go to the Board of Governors to protest. Hell, they can't even visit him, as they can't see Hogwarts!"
"I told you, the entire school system is in dire need of reforms," Tom said emphatically. "Especially with regard to Muggleborn students. If I ever get my own body, I'll strive to become headmaster. I'd do a much better job at it then Dumbledore, and I do like the office. Just wait and see!"
A/N: Kudos for Tom's remark about the brochure go to Hunter_Redmane who posted it on reddit as part of an answer to the question 'What did they tell the parents?'. I thought it was hilarious!