Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm reboned but very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin's bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray. Then she began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.
"All in order," she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge left-handed. "When you've finished eating, you may leave."
Harry dressed quickly and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren't there. Harry left to look for them, wondering where they could have gotten to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren't interested in whether he had his bones back.
Percy strolled out of the library as Harry passed it, looking in far better spirits than the last time they'd met.
"Oh, hello, Harry," he said. "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup; you earned fifty points!"
"You haven't seen Ron or Hermione, have you?" said Harry, trying not to show how annoyed he was that his older brother was more concerned with some stupid cup than with the fact that a bludger nearly killed him.
"No, I haven't," said Percy, his smile fading. "I hope Ron's not in another girls' toilet…"
Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He couldn't see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again. Still, after ensuring that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and saw them inspecting the nearby faucets.
"What are the two of you doing here?" Harry asked once he had safely closed the bathroom door behind him. Ron and Hermione both jumped, and Hermione had to put her fist into her mouth to keep her from screaming.
Seeing who it was, Hermione stormed over to the snorting Harry and slapped him hard on the shoulder,
"Don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"That's your own fault!" Harry snorted, "You shouldn't be in here in the first place! If Filch catches you, you'll be in the same boat as me, with everyone suspecting you of being some pet killer."
"How's your arm?" Ron asked as he walked up next to Harry. Hermione looked ashamed at having forgotten and quickly muttered an apology for slapping Harry's shoulder, which Harry immediately waved away.
"Arm's fine. Madam Pomfrey had me all fixed up in no time. But forget my arm! I've got something to tell you!"
Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.
"We already know, we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we returned to the first crime scene, to see if the attacker accidentally left something. Or maybe they left something that will identify them!"
"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."
"It wasn't Draco!" Harry snapped back at once, making his brother turn and glare at him,
"Why do you defend him, Harry! Why?!" Ron yelled, throwing his hands into the air, "His whole family are nothing but monsters who followed the greatest mass murderer our world has ever known! Who knows how many innocent muggles or Muggleborns are dead because of Lucius Malfoy! He's probably one of the men who chased you to our door all those years ago!"
"That may be true," Harry growled back, his hair turning a fiery red, "But it doesn't mean that Draco should be blamed for the things his father did. And I will continue to fight for the belief that every man can be better, even Draco Malfoy."
"Better? He's a snake!" Ron snarled, taking a step forward in his anger, "And they almost got you killed yesterday!"
"Daphne is a snake!" Harry shot back, "So is Tracey! And Theo! You still hang out with them! What makes Draco any different?"
"They're different!" Ron snapped back, "They're not like him."
"You're just holding a grudge!" Harry yelled back, causing Ron to color slightly.
"That's enough, you two!" Hermione yelled at last, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, "We don't know who is responsible, and until we do, it does us no good to point fingers at our friends."
"Draco isn't the one who set the bludger loose on me!" Harry snarled, stepping forward so that he and Ron were almost nose to nose, "Dobby visited me last night and told me it was him!"
"And you believe him?" Ron scoffed, "Harry, we both know who Dobby belongs to, the Malfoys! How do you know that they didn't send the little bugger to try and kill you, then get into your good graces if he failed, in order to keep tabs on you!"
"Careful, Ron," Harry sneered, "Keep using those big words, and your brain will melt."
Ron turned crimson at Harry's words, and his hands balled into fists as Hermione desperately tried to diffuse the situation,
"That's enough, you two!" Returning to Harry, Hermione asked, "What else did Dobby say, Harry?"
Ron and Hermione listened, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him, or hadn't told him. And by the end, both were listening with open mouths, Ron's anger forgotten.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said.
"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here, and now, he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."
"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, "Or maybe it can disguise itself, pretend to be a suit of armor or something. I've read about Chameleon Ghouls."
"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, grinning at his apparent victory at proving to Harry that the Malfoys were all evil.
"And you don't read enough, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione sneered back before turning to Harry, who was worrying his lip.
"So, what are you going to do?" Hermione asked, making Harry look up at her,
"It wasn't Draco…" Harry said softly, "I just know it wasn't.
"Harry, I don't want it to be him, either," Hermione said softly as Ron scoffed, "But we must accept the possibility, all the same."
"Come on," Ron said after a moment of silence, "Let's go get some food, I'm starving!"
"What a surprise," Harry muttered, earning a dark look from his brother as the three exited the bathroom.
XXXX
The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.
Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Harry felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They took turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he would write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.
Luna was faring no better and now seemed to completely avoid Harry and her former friends; often, Harry would see the poor girl with dark circles under her eyes and muttering to herself. Still, whenever Harry reached out to her, she would snap before a sudden sadness came over her eyes, and she would run away crying. Harry had already talked to Professor Flitwick about it, and he had assured Harry that he would speak with Luna at his earliest moment.
Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was pureblood and, therefore unlikely to be attacked.
"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."
In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron, and Hermione signed her list almost immediately. Harry almost offered a prayer of happiness when the trio discovered that Draco would be going home with his sister.
"It could still be him," Ron had muttered before returning to his book on dyslexia. Harry refused to give in and start another fight with his brother, so instead, he chose to say nothing.
A week later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.
"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…"
"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest.
"Could be useful," he said to Harry and Hermione as they went to dinner. "Shall we go?"
Harry and Hermione were all for it, so they hurried back to the Great Hall at eight o'clock that evening. The long dining tables had vanished, and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more, and most of the school seemed packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.
"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young," Daphne replied as she approached the trio with Tracey and Theo trailing not far behind, "Maybe it'll be him."
"As long as it's not—" Harry began before he ended with a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.
Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! 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."
Flashing another damnable smile toward the crowd, Harry stifled a laugh as he saw Daphne and Tracey both making retching noises from the corner of his eyes.
"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little 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!"
"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron whispered to Harry and Theo,
"We're not that lucky," Theo whispered back, causing the three of them to grin wickedly.
Snape's upper lip was curling, and Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that, he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then, they raised their wands like swords in front of them.
"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."
"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth,
"If he does die, we all tell the staff it was an accident, agreed?" Theo whispered with a wink,
"Agreed," everyone whispered (even Hermione, to Harry's surprise).
"One—two—three—" Lockhart said jovially, as though this was a simple game, and he was the master of it.
Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent. Snape cried:
"Expelliarmus!"
There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light, and Lockhart was blasted off his feet; he flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.
Draco and some of the other Slytherins cheered while Hermione was dancing on tiptoes.
"Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.
"Who cares?" said Daphne and Tracey together before descending into giggles.
As Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet, Harry could see that his hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end; not far away, Harry spotted Rhea looking at Lockhart as though he were a worm or some other slimy thing.
"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm, and as you see, I've lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—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 was looking murderous. Possibly, Lockhart had noticed because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me—"
They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Snape teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Lockhart reached Harry and Ron first.
"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter—"
Harry turned to look and saw, to his horror, that Daphne had partnered with Tracey, while Hermione had stood next to Theo; Ron was the only one left, and as Harry saw Lockhart's smirk, he knew the Defense Professor had something cruel planned.
"I'd like to stay with my brother if it's all the same, Professor," Harry stated, making Lockhart color slightly.
"I don't think so," said Lockhart, smiling coldly. "Mr. Zabini, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Harry Potter."
"Weasley," Harry muttered, "It's not even that hard to remember! There's like six of us at Hogwarts!"
Zabini strutted over, smirking as Lockhart returned to making partners. Behind him, Harry saw Draco staring with a concerned look, while Rhea looked like she wanted to give Lockhart another black eye.
"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"
Harry and Zabini barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other; suddenly smirking, Zabini hissed just loud enough for Harry to hear,
"Looks like I got an early Christmas gift, Potter."
"What do you mean?" Harry hissed back,
"I get to put you in your place again, only this time in front of witnesses," Zabini replied, making Harry's face turn crimson with barely contained rage and humiliation,
"This time, you won't have anyone to protect you, Zabini," Harry growled back.
"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—"
Harry swung his wand high, but Zabini had already started on "two." His spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he'd been hit over the head with a saucepan. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Zabini and shouted,
"Rictusempra!"
A jet of silver light hit Zabini in the stomach, and he doubled up, wheezing.
"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, realizing that he may have made a mistake as Zabini sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Zabini while he was on the floor, no matter what the arsehole had done to him, but this was a mistake; gasping for breath, Zabini pointed his wand at Harry's knees, choked,
"Tarantallegra!" and the next second, Harry's legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.
"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart as he tried to push his way through the crowd to reach the pair, but Snape took charge and snarled at the Defense Professor,
"What did you expect, you idiot! It's well-known how Potter and Zabini feel about each other; even the staff know this!"
Reaching the pair, Snape immediately waved his wand and called out,
"Finite Incantatem!" Harry's feet stopped dancing, Zabini stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.
A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, the boy's proclivity for pyrotechnics making itself known during his and Ron's duel. Theo and Hermione were both breathing heavily, having apparently tried to outdo the other's defense, with neither succeeding.
"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan… Careful there, Miss Fawcett… Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot…"
"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and quickly glanced away. "Let's have a volunteer pair, Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley; how about you?"
"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker.
"Hmm," Lockhart said softly before turning back to Harry, who suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, "Well then, how about Potter and Zabini? They seem like they're able to keep going, after all."
"What are you doing?" Snape hissed, stepping forward into Lockhart's personal space, "These two could have killed each other, and you want them to do it again? Explain yourself."
Lockhart colored as the other students began to whisper to one another while Harry flashed a grateful smile at Snape; pulling himself to his full height, Lockhart stared Snape down, and Harry to stifle his snort of amusement. Even at his full height, Lockhart was still several inches shorter than the Potions Professor, and so the action just made Lockhart appear silly.
"I don't have to explain anything, Snape!" Lockhart hissed, "I am the world's most renowned dark hunter! And I am the one that Dumbledore chose to teach these students how to protect themselves! So, if you don't like it, you can scurry back to your dungeon!"
The Great Hall was silent as the grave as those nearby stared in open mouth shock at what Lockhart had just said; even Snape appeared to have been surprised into silence, though that only lasted a few moments before his hand twitched toward his wand. Lockhart saw this and swallowed nervously, his face paling slightly as he turned to Harry and Zabini,
"Get on the stage, the both of you. Now!"
Growling under his breath, Lockhart spun on his heel and stormed toward the stage, leaving Harry and Zabini awkwardly beside Professor Snape.
"Arrogant little…" Snape growled under his breath before turning to the pair,
"I know of the animosity between you two," Snape drawled, "So listen well. If either of you uses a dark spell, I will have that individual scrubbing cauldrons from now until the end of the school year! Is that clear!"
"Of course, sir," Harry replied, his eyes narrowing on Zabini,
"Wouldn't dream of doing such a thing, Professor," Zabini said with a smirk that narrowed Snape's eyes.
"Get on the stage, then," Snape growled, causing both boys to quickly make their way through the crowd toward the stage; Harry could hear whispers and offers of good luck around him.
After awkwardly climbing onto the stage, Harry instantly shortened his long purple hair to a 'military-style' fade to keep it from getting into his way during the duel; across the stage from him, Harry could see Snape whispering harshly into Zabini's ear, making the boy scowl momentarily before nodding.
"Ready, Harry?" Lockhart asked in Harry's ear, making the boy jump slightly before turning around to face the Defense Professor.
"As I'll ever be, Professor," Harry responded coldly, "So, what do I do?"
"Now, Harry," said Lockhart with a smirk, "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."
He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops, my wand is a little overexcited…"
"That's unfortunate," Harry replied dryly, "But perhaps you could show me the CORRECT way of defending myself?"
Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"
"What, drop my wand?" Harry damned contemptuously, but Lockhart wasn't listening.
"Three—two—one—go!" he shouted.
Zabini raised his wand quickly and bellowed,
"Serpensortia!"
The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.
"Don't move, Potter," said Snape quickly, clearly not enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it…"
"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart, a slight sweat appearing on his brow; he had only wanted to embarrass the boy; allowing Harry Potter hurt on his watch was another matter entirely, and Lockhart was unwilling to go down that particular road. He brandished his wand at the snake, and there was a loud bang; instead of vanishing, the snake flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.
Harry wasn't sure what made him do it. He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake,
"Leave him alone!"
And miraculously, inexplicably, the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, but he couldn't have explained how he knew it.
He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful, but certainly not 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 hall.
Zabini stared at Harry in total shock, but that quickly gave way to anger as the boy's grip tightened on his wand.
Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn't like it. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Still, the worst feeling came from Draco and Rhea, who were both looking at Harry like he had suddenly morphed into a three-headed dragon. Lockhart was wearing an ugly expression on his face, as though Harry had changed into something foul, and Harry was about to comment on it when he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.
"Come on," said Ron's voice in his ear. "Move! Come on!"
Ron steered him out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry didn't have a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room. Then Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said in a hurt voice,
"Seven years we've been brothers, and you never thought to tell me that you were a bloody a Parselmouth! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm a what?" said Harry in confusion at the hurt look on Ron's face.
"A Parselmouth!" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!"
"No, I can't!" Harry said in bewilderment, "I'm a Metamorphmagus, not a Parsel-whatsit!"
"Harry, the whole hall heard you!" Ron countered, "We all heard you speaking snake language!"
"I was speaking another language…? Harry said in shock, "But how? I didn't even realize I was doing it!"
"That doesn't matter," Ron said quickly, "What matters is what it looked like, and what it looked like was you egging the snake to attack Justin!"
"But I wasn't!" Harry retorted, "I was telling it to get away from him! And besides, we just need to find another Parselmouth, and they'll be able to tell everyone!"
"That's going to be a bit tricky," Ron said with a snort, "It's not a very common gift,"
"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione added, "The only other known Parselmouth in Britain was You-Know-Who. There aren't any others in the U.K., and if there are, they have wisely chosen to keep their gift a secret.
"Voldemort was a Parselmouth…?" Harry whispered in shocked horror, "But then how….?"
"Now everyone's going to think you're the next Dark Lord!" Ron cried, throwing his hands into the air, "Or worse! That you're the Heir of Slytherin and the one causing these attacks!"
"Ron!" Hermione yelled out, causing Ron to look from her to Harry; Harry was sitting with a scared look on his face, one that Ron had not seen since the incident at the train station with Harry's Uncle. Immediately, Ron changed into brother mode and sat down next to Harry, a rather tight fit, but one that allowed maximum physical contact, which Ron used by throwing his arm around Harry's shoulder.
"You're not him, Harry. You know that, right?"
"How do you know?" Harry asked in a small voice, "He and I have the same ability. How do you know I won't go Dark like him?"
"Because I won't let you," Ron replied at once, "No matter what, I won't let you become like that Dark wanker."
"And neither will I," Hermione added as she sat on the side of the armchair and placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, and making the scared boy smile up at her in thanks.
They stayed like that for a little while, just sitting in front of the fireplace and watching the flames dance, until the trio agreed that it was time for bed, and made their way there.
XXXX
Rhea Malfoy sat alone in her room with her arms wrapped around her knees; it was very late, and Rhea knew that she should be asleep, yet her thoughts whirled uncontrollably and allowed her no rest. Harry Weasley was a Parselmouth, yet how could this be possible? Rhea had no idea. It could be argued that since Harry was a descendant of Dorea Black, and as such, it could be argued that Harry's newest ability came from his lineage with House Black. But at the same time, something inside Rhea was telling her that this wasn't the correct answer, and as such, she stayed awake trying to solve the latest mystery that seemed to have popped up at Hogwarts.
As Rhea rested her chin on her knees, she couldn't help but sigh as she remembered the fierce look that Harry had on his face as he stared down that filth, Zabini. He had looked so handsome up there, and that thought brought Rhea up short, causing her brows to raise in surprise.
"Handsome?" Rhea thought in bemusement, "Why the devil would I think one of my little brother's friends was handsome?"
"Perhaps because you've grown fond of young Mr. Weasley…" Another voice in her head echoed, catching her off guard.
"While an alliance with House Potter would prove beneficial to the future security of House Malfoy, father would never allow such a relationship to take place. And besides, Harry is two years younger than I."
"And that matters why?" The voice replied silkily. Rhea would be up a long time trying to think of an argument to counter the voice's line of thinking, yet when dawn came, she would still be left wanting.
XXXX
Harry lay awake for hours that night. Through a gap in the curtains around his four-poster, he watched snow starting to drift past the tower window and wondered…
Could he be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? He didn't know anything about his father's family, after all, aside from the things that Sirius and Remus had told him. The Dursleys had always forbidden questions about his parents, and he doubted the Weasleys would know any more than Harry did.
Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue, but the words wouldn't come. It seemed he had to be face-to-face with a snake to do it, and Harry was tempted to summon one for just that reason.
"But I'm in Gryffindor," Harry thought. "The Sorting Hat wouldn't have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood…"
"Unless it's been so diluted that the hat wasn't able to detect it," a nasty voice said in Harry's ear, making the boy pull his covers tighter over himself.
Harry turned over. He'd see Justin the next day in Herbology, and he'd explain that he'd been calling the snake off, not egging it on, which (he thought angrily, pummeling his pillow) any fool should have realized.
By the next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so crucial for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.
Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess.
"For heaven's sake, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated, as one of Ron's bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. "Go and find Justin if it's so important to you."
So Harry got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Justin might be.
The castle was darker than it usually was in the daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, Harry walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Resisting the urge to take a look, Harry walked on by, thinking that Justin might be using his free time to catch up on some work, and deciding to check the library first.
A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Harry could see that their heads were close together between the long lines of high bookshelves, and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether Justin was among them. He was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.
"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while."
"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.
"Hannah," the stout boy solemnly said, "He's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."
There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. The next thing we know, Filch's cat has attacked. That first year, Creevey was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know, Creevey's been attacked."
"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "And, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"
Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.
"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I mean, he's already a Metamorphmagus, and now this? I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"
Harry couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves. If he hadn't been feeling so angry, he would have found the sight that greeted him funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.
"Hello," said Harry. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."
The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.
"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.
"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club," said Harry.
Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."
"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" said Harry.
"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "Was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."
"I didn't chase it at him!" Harry said, his voice shaking with anger, his hair beginning to turn a fiery red. "It didn't even touch him!"
"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks, and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so—"
"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"
"I remember reading in the papers a few years ago about how you were treated by your Muggle relatives," Ernie replied, instantly making the table go quiet as Harry's eyes widened in outrage, "It would make sense for you to hate Muggles and Muggleborn after that!"
For several moments, no one said a word. The library's only sound was the scratch of quills as other students worked; the Hufflepuffs were looking back and forth between Ernie and Harry with mixed reactions, going from fear to pity to outrage on Harry's behalf. Harry simply stared at Ernie for a moment before lowering his head so that those seated could not see his face, and Ernie worried his lip, thinking he had gone too far.
"Have you ever been starved?" Harry asked in a hiss, making Ernie pale slightly, "How about beaten for the sole crime of being born?"
"I… I…" Ernie stuttered as the magical pressure at the table increased, making Ernie and all the other Hufflepuffs feel like they were being pressed into their chair.
"I have seen and experienced things you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares," Harry continued coldly, "And if I had been left there, who knows! I might have become the next Dark Lord!"
This made the other children's eyes widen in horror as Harry continued to speak,
"But I was saved from that hellhole! The Weasleys took me in and showed me how family is SUPPOSED to treat one another! Today, I am no more a Dark Lord than Albus Dumbledore!"
Ernie stupidly chose this moment to respond and jabbed an accusing finger at Harry,
"You comparing yourself to Dumbledore just shows how arrogant you really are! And you can't fool us, Potter! We know what you are!"
"MY NAME IS WEASLEY!" Harry snarled, slamming his hand onto the table, only for the table to split right down the middle and fall to the ground to the shock of everyone present; a moment later, Madam Pince came around the corner, her eyes widening in horror at what she saw.
"What's this!" The elderly librarian screeched, "Destruction of school property! That's twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, and I'll be reporting this to the Headmaster!"
Turning back to the gathered Hufflepuffs, Harry saw, to his annoyance, that Ernie was smirking at him. Harry was half tempted to curse that bastard, teacher, or not. Instead, Harry rose to his full height, stared down at the scared students, and scoffed slightly,
"Hufflepuff is supposed the house for loyalty, for those willing to stand up for others when no one else will," Harry said scornfully, causing more than one of the students to color slightly, "And yet I see none of that, here. It's clear that you've already made up your minds; just remember that when my innocence is proven, I want nothing from you. Not apologies, not attempts to assuage your guilt, just stay the hell away from me."
As Harry stepped away, he saw that Hannah and a few other students already looked guilty, and he took a small amount of satisfaction from that as he stormed away from the glares of students and staff alike.
Such was his fury at the unfairness of his situation that Harry barely paid attention to where he was going; he knew he should be heading back to his dormitory; after he had Transfiguration next and would need to collect his things for class. But instead, Harry just kept walking with no particular destination in mind, just wanting to be left alone with his anger.
Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor. He turned to squint at what he'd fallen over and felt as though his stomach had dissolved. Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.
It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off, and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.
Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.
He could run; no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn't just leave them lying here… He had to get help… Would anyone believe he hadn't had anything to do with this?
As he stood there, panicking, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.
"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking—"
Peeves stopped halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs, and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"
Crash—crash—crash—door after door flew open along the corridor, and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed, and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry found himself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.
"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry, who suddenly felt an all-consuming desire to throttle the little bastard,
"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.
Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:
"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,
You're killing off students, you think it's good fun—"
"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward with his tongue out at Harry.
Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. Still, nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.
"This way, Mr. Weasley," she said.
"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't—"
"This is out of my hands, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall curtly.
They marched silently around a corner, and she stopped before a large and hideous stone gargoyle.
"Lemon drop!" she said. This was evidently a password because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. Harry heard the wall thud close behind them as he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. He knew now where he was being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived,
"Aw man, mum's going to kill me," Harry muttered as Professor McGonagall raised her hand and knocked three times.
XXXX
Author's Note:
Happy New Year to one and all! No, this story hasn't been abandoned. I've just got a new job in I.T. and have been busy lately. How I went from a steel worker to an I.T. guy, I have no idea, lol. Hope you like this new chapter all the same, though.