CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT –
Throwing a Hissy Fit
For the next week, the only thing that Hogwarts students could talk about was the Petrification of Mrs. Norris. The cat was soundly hated by the students of the school, since she always grassed up their... not-quite-within-the-rules activities, but none of them truly wished her harm. Out of the school, definitely, but not harm.
Harry had observed Ginny Weasley sitting unhappily in the Great Hall, her brother Ron sitting as far away as possible from her. If I didn't know the little bitch better, I'd be inclined to go and sit there next to her. He mused sadly. His friends quickly came and sat next to him, sharing of breakfast.
After breakfast, the second years headed for History of Magic. Harry settled himself into his seat, preparing for two hours of napping while his auto-quill took notes for him.
He was finally dozing, when Hermione raised her hand. It took almost four minutes to Binns to notice her arm waving in the air.
"Yes, Miss... Granley?"
"It's 'Granger', sir." Hermione replied, managing to avoid rolling her eyes. "You've been here for a long time, haven't you, Professor?"
Binns nodded, a little shocked that someone had actually asked a question. "I have, Miss Granger." He replied after a moment. "This is my 86th year teaching here, 41 of them as a ghost."
"You know you're a ghost?" Blaise blurted out, before slamming his hand over his mouth.
Binns turned slowly to Blaise. "Contrary to popular opinion, Mr. Zabini, I'm not completely stupid, nor am I ignorant." He snorted. "You think I like teaching endless classes on Goblin rebellions? No, unfortunately, this is what the Ministry has mandated that I must teach."
Harry propped his head on his hands. "Is that why you always deliver your lectures in a monotone, sir?"
"Pretty much, Mr. Potter." Binns nodded. "I've been teaching the same damned thing for decades. Sweet Merlin, even I'm bored with it." He turned back to Hermione. "Now, Miss Granger, you had a question?"
"Er..." Hermione was a bit flummoxed. "I wanted to ask you about the Chamber of Secrets, sir."
"Ah... would you like the official version, or the actual truth of the matter?" Binns asked. By now, every student was paying attention to the old ghost.
"Both." Harry said quickly. "Official first, then the real answer."
"Very well." Binns took a moment to gather his thoughts. "As you are all no doubt aware, Hogwarts was created a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of their age."
"1,005 years, actually." Harry said.
"Mr. Potter, you asked for the official version." Binns rebuked sharply. "Please allow me to continue."
"Sorry, sir."
"Now, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw built Hogwarts. For over a decade, they worked together, teaching magic in safety from the Muggles. At that time, there was very few people living here in Northern Scotland. That's why they picked this area, and warded it as heavily as they could. However, an argument rose up between the Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school. According to rumours, Slytherin built a secret area, with a monster inside, that would purge the school of all those who were not worthy of learning magic.
"Naturally, the school has been searched many times, and no 'Chamber of Secrets' has ever been discovered." He leaned back slightly. "That is the official version. There is no Chamber."
"And the truth?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her chair. This was riveting stuff. Never had History of Magic been this interesting.
"The truth, Miss Granger... is a beautiful and terrible thing," Binns said heavily, "and is often subject to... reinterpretation. However, the truth of the matter is this." He turned to Harry. "You seem to have knowledge about this, so feel free to chime in." Harry nodded.
"In 985AD, the Founders gathered and began their work on constructing Hogwarts. This included warding the area, planting the Forbidden Forest and digging the lake. It was intended that the Forest and Lake contain a wide array of magical creatures. The school opened in 987AD, with a mere nine students.
"The famous argument between Slytherin and Gryffindor has been reinterpreted over the centuries. No-one really knows what it was about." Binns looked at Harry. "Do you know, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, sir." Harry replied dutifully. "As I said in the Great Hall last year, Slytherin believed that Muggleborns should be taken from their families and raised solely in the Wizarding world. He believed both worlds should be completely separate from each other."
Binns nodded. "I understand his point. However, Gryffindor disagreed. He believed that Slytherin's views were extreme, prompting the separation." At this point, he hesitated. "Fifty years ago, the rumours regarding the Chamber of Secrets came up again. One of the students was killed, and another student expelled for the actions. However, no-one really knows for absolute certaintyis the Chamber is real. That is the real story." Binns sighed again. "Now, shall we return to our Goblin rebellions?" Even Binns didn't look impressed. "Actually, no. I've a better idea. Each of you will need to read the textbook, and provide the appropriate essay on it's due date. Instead, we shall discuss more relevant history. We shall start with the formation of the Ministry of Magic in 1215..."
That evening found the group in the library, hunting mercilessly through the stacks for more books on the history of Hogwarts and any information regarding the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione had even had the idea of looking through old copies of the Daily Prophet, hoping to find information about the dead student.
She'd opened the archive for 1942, deciding to start at exactly fifty years, and work her way forward, quickly scanning through the obituaries. Harry was sitting quietly, having finished with his work when he noticed Susan rolling her shoulders repeatedly, looking very uncomfortable. He leaned in close.
"Susan, you okay?"
The redhead shook her head, glancing round. "Not really. I..." She trailed off, starting to blush.
"Susan, why are you blushing?" He saw her rub her shoulder, right over her bra strap, and he started to understand. "Ah. I'm guessing that you need a shopping trip for underwear... er, with a better fit?"
She nodded, then winced as her bust moved with her, pulling the straps tight.
"Well, I'm not Gladrags or Madam Malkin's, but I can do permanent conjuration, and I can make something for you that should last you until you can go home for Christmas, or contact your aunt."
"How will you make it the right size? I don't want to take my robe off; with the shirt I've got on, they're a bit... er... prominent."
"I'll just use my wand to take exact dimensions. I warn you, it'll tickle, and I'll probably blush as I conjure it."
"Could you?"
"Yes, he will." Hermione leaned in, having noticed Susan's discomfort, but not realising that Harry could help. "Come on, Harry, the poor girl's in pain."
"Okay." Harry got his wand out, performing some subtle scans of Susan's upper torso, measuring everything. He almost forgot the measurements as Susan felt the spell tingling around her body and started giggling.
"Over here." Harry led Hermione and Susan back to the stacks, where nobody could see them. "Okay, let's see how good I am." He pointed his wand at the table, focused with all of his mind, and a black lace bra appeared on the table. It was perfect; functional, form-fitting and sexy enough for a teen to appreciate it, without Amelia Bones issuing an immediate arrest warrant for him. "I'll set up a repelling ward, and stand guard out here; Hermione can keep an eye out while you try this on."
Susan, while normally very shy, decided that it was pretty, and lace, and her chest really hurt, so she agreed, sliding her robes off her shoulder, putting on the new bra. It was perfect; millimetre perfect and very flattering, it supported her chest like nothing she'd ever felt before.
"What do you think?"
"I think with boobs like yours, you'll never be single unless you won't to." Hermione suddenly looked shocked, slamming her hand over her mouth. "Er, I mean, it looks fine."
Susan laughed, putting her top back on and carrying her robes over her arm. A flick of Hermione's wand dispelled the repelling wand, and they approached Harry, who was waiting. Susan immediately kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, before heading back to the table.
"What did she want?" Hermione, luckily, didn't do jealousy... at least, not with her immediate friends. They'd all got the 'back off, he's mine!' vibe. Or, more accurately, Harry's 'back off, I'm hers!' vibe.
"Matching knickers. Another time, I think."
"Can I come and see you when I need clothes?"
Harry hugged her close, his hands squeezing her hips gently as she leaned in to his hands. "I'll be happy to make you whatever naughty underwear you want."
She blushed, stammered and headed straight back to the table, a private smile on her face.
Ron Weasley had sauntered in to the library, looking for someone he could copy homework off, as he had four assignments due in the next day, and he hadn't started yet. He saw Potter's study group in the corner, and headed straight over, knowing that they had the best grades in the year.
"Hello-lo-lo-lo." Ron's eyes fixed themselves on Susan's chest, which appeared to be clad in black lace under a white top, and looked delicious. He stretched his hand out, to get a firm grasp on those glorious globes, when a massive tome, the size of a tombstone, suddenly crashed down on the table, unfortunately crushing Ron's hand and breaking his wrist.
"Here we are, Susan; 'Chastity Charms and Amorous Idiot Castration Hexes' by Hans Offnow and I. Sedno." Harry saw Ron drag his busted wrist out, it hanging limply and already starting to swell to an impressive size. "Do you mind, Ronnie? You're in my seat."
He quickly pushed the gonk out of the way, sitting down. "Anyone find anything yet?" He heard Ron whimpering as he staggered away.
Padma looked up. "Nothing on the Chamber of Secrets that Professor Binns didn't tell us." She closed her book with a slam. "This is just weird. How can it be such a huge legend without more being written about it? I just don't get it."
Blaise spoke up. "Perhaps we should return to the scene of the crime. A more in-depth investigation may be beneficial."
Harry shook his head. "Way ahead of you, Blaise. I checked the area already. There's nothing there. That bloody message is still on the wall, though, which is curious. Blood should have dried by now. Could just be scrubbed off, but it's still there."
"That is curious." Blaise said. "Do we know why?"
I suspect that when Blink looked at it, she petrified the blood onto the wall. That'll need to be cleaned with the Mandrake restorative draught when it's made. "Don't have any definitive answers." Harry replied. "I could speculate, but I don't like doing that."
Hermione leaned in closer to him. "Share, Harry."
"Very well." Harry sighed dramatically. "I suspect that whatever petrified Mrs. Norris also had an effect on the blood on the wall. That's why it can't be removed. However, without most people knowing what petrified her, it's a lot more difficult to say." And that's nearly true, as well.
"'Most' people, Harry?" Blaise asked.
Harry nodded. "Well, whoever or whatever was doing the petrifying, they'd know." And so do I, but that's not really relevant. "I hate mysteries. I'm the type of guy that likes to turn to the last page in the book to find out who did it." A fact that really annoyed my Hermione in the future.
Padma leaned forward. "Okay, so we can't answer the 'How' it was done. Let's see what we can do. 'Why' is also a difficult question. 'Where' is pretty obvious. Although, a sub-question of 'Why there?' could be asked."
"Very logical, Padma." Harry complimented. "Unfortunately, there's no real way to know for sure why that particular location. I believe the most relevant question we should be asking is 'Who?' Who would want to set a monster loose? Especially considering the old legend that Binns told us about. In recent history, it's been recorded that Slytherin hated Muggles and Muggleborns, wanting to remove the 'taint' of anyone other than a pureblood. So, who would set a monster on people?"
"My first bet is Malfoy." Neville said. "Did you hear him in the corridor? 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!' Just reeks of evil to me."
"True." Susan replied. "And he doesn't like half-bloods or anyone he considers 'Blood Traitors'. He's from an old, pureblood family that have been in Slytherin for as long as anyone can remember."
"It's not Draco Malfoy." Harry said absently, reaching for another book.
"And how do you know?" Hermione asked.
Harry didn't even need to think. "Because Draco Malfoy is lacking two key personality aspects to pull off an attack of this nature; self-control and patience. If he really got control over a mons..." he trailed off. "Okay, I refuse to call it a 'monster'. We're not five years old here. If he had some creature that could petrify or kill people, he would just unleash it and let it 'purge' every first generation and half-blood here. He wouldn't stop with just a cat. It's not flashy enough for him."
Padma, Blaise and Hermione nodded, with Blaise speaking up. "True... and a well-reasoned analysis of Malfoy."
"Thank you." Harry sighed. "No, there's someone a lot smarter pulling the strings here, and I have to say, I don't really like it. Smart people with the magical equivalent of a weapon of mass destruction make me nervous."
"Maybe we could stake out that corridor?" Susan offered. "Auntie's told me about stakeouts."
And die horribly? Nuh-uh. "I don't really see the point, Sue." Harry replied nonchalantly. "We don't even know if the attack happened there. I mean, the cat was hanging from a wall sconce. How the hell would a cat get up there?"
"Another good point." Blaise admitted. "It's a shame we don't see this fine, logical mind during every day activities, young Harry."
"Piss off, Blaise." Harry shot back, without any heat. "I know I've not told you I hate you for several days, so here it is; I hate you, you smug git."
"Ah, young Harry, some of us have every right to be smug." Blaise replied, deadpan.
"Sod off. You're only five weeks older than I am." Harry grinned. "And we both know that youthful stamina will always beat old age."
"Ah, but old age and trickery will always beat youthful stamina." The two snickered between themselves.
"When you're quite finished?" Hermione said in a haughty voice. "Shall we return to the minor matter of figuring out what's attacking our school?"
Both boys slumped in their seats, muttering "Sorry, Hermione."
"Right, then. Let us conclude what we do know; the legend of the Chamber of Secrets appears to be true, but we have no way of confirming this, nor do we know where it is. We don't know who is behind this attack, nor do we know how it was done. We don't even know where it was done. In short, we don't know a bloody thing." Hermione leaned back in her chair. "Not exactly a motivational speech, I know."
Harry cleared his throat. "Allow me, Hermione; we know that whatever did this is powerful. Petrifying someone takes verypowerful magic. We know that whoever or whatever did this is capable of writing. That means that there is a human somewhere in the mix. The rumours of a 'monster' in the Chamber must be true, if the Chamber is real. Ergo, we have a person controlling said monster, and leaving messages. Since Mrs. Norris was hanging from a wall sconce, chances are that someone put her there. Again, reinforcing the human element."
He cocked his head for a moment. "Do you need something, Headmaster?"
Behind them, the old man appeared from under a disillusionment charm. "Good evening, Harry. How did you know I was here?"
"I could smell your lemon drops, Headmaster." Harry replied. "May I assume you were patrolling the school, and decided to check the library... or were you spying on me?"
"The former, Harry, I assure you." Dumbledore replied, both him and Harry aware that the unbreakable vow would compel him to tell the truth. "However, when I heard you discussing the situation, I felt compelled to... eavesdrop."
Harry lifted his foot, and pushed out the last free chair at the table. "Well, take a load off, then. You know more about this school than anyone, I would imagine."
Dumbledore sat down, pulling out his bag of lemon drops. "Would anyone care for a lemon drop?"
For the first time, Harry reached into the bag. "Are these the normal ones, or the ones laced with calming potion?"
"Normal." Dumbledore replied nonchalantly, before realising what Harry asked. "How did you know I lace some with calming potion?"
"A school full of emotional and angsty teenagers?" Harry snorted, popping the lemon drop into his mouth. "I would. Or sedatives."
Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his own mouth, waiting for the others to take one. Seeing Harry take a sweet, the rest of the group followed suit, and soon all eight of them were casually sucking the sour candies. "Now, Harry, what can I do to help?"
Harry took a moment to think. "You were here fifty years ago, sir. Is the Chamber of Secrets real?"
"I... I do not know for certain, Harry." Dumbledore said after a moment. "I suspect that there is, although the school has been searched top to bottom many times over the last ten centuries. No-one has been able to locate it."
"Do you agree with my assessment that there has to be a person behind this attack?"
"Indeed. That drew my attention, and I certainly agree with your conclusion. The only problem, however, is determining who that person is. In order to command such a creature, they would need to be immensely powerful."
"What about this 'Heir' comment?" Susan asked, out of the blue. "I mean, we know that Harry's an heir. Who else?"
Neville clicked his fingers, reaching for a book on the table. "I was looking that up myself. I couldn't really find anything. The most recent one I could find for Slytherin stopped at someone called 'Gaunt', at the beginning of the seventeenth century."
Dumbledore paled slightly. "Indeed?"
Harry glanced down at his watch. "Anyway... I need to grab some sleep. Got Quidditch in the morning, and I don't fancy trying to play without much sleep." He looked at the Headmaster, deciding to test the old man. "If you can think of anything regarding this situation, sir, please let us know."
"I will tell you anything I can." Offered Dumbledore. "However, there is little concrete information or evidence available. As I said, I believe the Chamber is real, and that it has been opened before. Anything I discover, I will share with you."
Good enough. The group stood and put their books away, before heading out of the library.
"Harry?" Neville asked after a moment.
"Yeah, mate?"
"Why are you playing Quidditch tomorrow? I thought it was the Gryffindor/Slytherin game."
Harry nodded. "Oh, it was. But after that... unfortunate incident involving their brooms, which I still maintain I had nothing to do with, they protested loudly that they needed time to order replacements, so the teachers voted on who should take their place. We lost, so we're playing the Gryffs tomorrow."
"Ah..."
Hermione smirked. "And will you be scaring Oliver Wood tomorrow?"
Harry's smirk was far more evil than Hermione's. "Would I really do a thing like that?"
During breakfast, Harry pondered the data dump he'd received from Luna over two months ago.
Dumbledore stood in the Great Hall, wearing dour black robes. Black banners hung from the roof, and a sombre mood permeated the air.
"We are gathered here to pay our final respects to one of our students. Harry Potter."
"It is the first time in the history of Hogwarts that a student has lost their life during a Quidditch match. Evidence shows that the Bludger which hit Harry's head was tampered with. Officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be here tomorrow. I would like every student to give them their full co-operation."
Ah, Dobby... you little bastard. Try anything, and I swear I'll give you an encounter with a Bludger you won't forget. He was grateful to his friends; thanks to Hermione, he had Quidditch armour that would stop a Bludger, and Blaise, Padma and Susan had given him the arms guards, goggles and crotch protector. I wonder if I'll keep my arm intact this time round. If I see Gilderoy Lockhart anywhere near me this time... He sighed and buttered himself some toast.
Luna watched him closely, almost able to read his mind. She stiffened, prompting Padma to flail her legs at Harry under the table. "Incoming."
"The juncture has been reached. Time will bend or break this day."
"Thanks, Luna." Harry replied. "I understand."
Hermione leaned in closer. "Is this the one?" She asked, grateful that Harry had told her about what he'd received from Luna two months ago. "The Bludger?"
"Yeah, I'd guess so." Harry replied. "Still, forewarned is forearmed, isn't it?"
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The booming voice of Lee Jordan rang through the Quidditch stadium. "Welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season. I am your announcer, Lee Jordan! Today's match is a replacement to the traditional Gryffindor/Slytherin match which usually takes place at the beginning of the season. The reason for this is the unfortunate fault on the Slytherin teams' broomsticks. A terrible shame, from what I hear."
"Jordan!" McGonagall's voice filtered over the magical microphone.
"Sorry, Professor. Instead of Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin, we have Gryffindor Vs. Ravenclaw, a bit of a grudge match since they wiped the floor with us last time."
"Jordan!"
"Sorry, Professor. Announcing the teams, first up it's Ravenclaw, with the tried and tested Captain Roger Davies, with Cho Chang and Bradley Erickson as their Chaser Line. Their Beaters, who are not quite as good as the Gryffindor teams'-"
"Jordan!"
"Eddie Carmichael and Robert Lucas!" Lee carried on as though never interrupted. "In goals, the second best keeper in Hogwarts, Sarah Fawcett!"
"Jordan! Stop being biased!"
"Okay, Professor. And playing seeker, the youngest Quidditch player in the last century, Harry Potter!" Most of the crowd cheered, including one slightly chubby young lad in the Gryffindor stands. An irate redhead glared at him.
"And now, the Gryffindor Lions! Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood, the best keeper in Hogwarts! A pair of unbeatable beaters, Fred and George Weasley!"
"Jordan!"
"The extremely lovely, but still rejecting me, Chaser line of Spinnet, Bell and Johnson!"
"Behave, Jordan!"
"And finally, at Seeker, Cormac McLaggen." His voice trailed off as he announced the Gryffindor seeker, proof of how utterly ineffectual he found the third year to be.
"And Madam Hooch is at the centre now, as both captains shake hands. And what's Potter doing? Did he just wink at Wood? Something you're not telling us Harry? No, sorry, I don't swing that way, so there's no point in making that gesture at me."
"Jordan, for the love of Merlin, will-"
"And they're off!"
The game began as usual. The Ravenclaw team raced forward, managing to snatch the Quaffle from Alicia Spinnet, thanks to Harry flying with his distraction moves. As the Chaser line moved towards the Gryffindor end, Harry made a long sweeping circuit around the pitch.
He heard the Bludger begin it's attack, and decided to play for a while. His Nimbus 2000, no longer the best broom on the market, was still up there in the top three. With a burst of speed, he raced round the Gryffindor goalposts, sticking out his foot to snag the pole on the way past. In effect, he performed a handbrake turn, accelerating down the pitch to his broom's top speed of 135mph. By summoning up his magic and lacing it throughout his broom, he managed to get another 11mph, making him the fastest player on the pitch.
Fortunately, the Bludgers only had a top speed of 80mph, even when punted by the horrifically strong and accurate arm of a Weasley. This won't be too bad. As long as I can keep the damned thing on my tail, I should be okay. He swooped under Katie Bell, noting the Bludger neatly duck under her as it followed him. Let's have a little fun with it. Harry began to fly completely randomly, moving in and out of players, round the stands, and even through the supports of the stands.
Winding round, Harry raced up to Eddie Carmichael, who'd just punted the non-tampered Bludger at Angelina. "Hey, Eddie!" Harry shouted as he shot past. "Get rid of this bloody thing, will you?"
Eddie glanced over, seeing the Bludger racing towards him. He span his broom round, drawing back his arm. With a grunt, he slammed the bat into the iron ball, sending it cannoning away. "That do you, Potter?"
"Cheers, Eddie." Harry kept his broom floating alongside the older boy's for a moment.
"That's not right..." Eddie muttered, as he saw the Bludger loop round, heading back towards them. "Back up, Potter. Little thing's just being annoying..." Eddie reached down, pulling all his strength up for another punt. The Bludger slammed into the bat, to be knocked away, before performing a U-turn. "Potter, go! I'll chase this!"
Harry nodded, before sending his broom forwards, accelerating to top speed almost instantly. He raced towards the other Bludger, noting that it was sailing straight towards him. I wonder... As soon as the Bludger was in range, he performed a sloth grip roll, the iron menace passing over him. To his shock, the rogue neatly rose up over it's companion, still chasing Harry.
Hmm... this is gonna be... difficult. Harry straightened his broom, and began a Wronski, hoping he could persuade the ball to bury itself in the ground.
Eddie floated over to his Captain. "Rog, that Bludger's been tampered with!"
Roger spotted Harry performing his faint, noting that McLaggen was following him down. Less than two feet from the ground, Harry pulled up his broom, the Bludger neatly following him, while Cormac decorated the field.
"Time out!" He called out to Hooch. With a blow on her whistle, Hooch stopped the game, prompting the two Bludgers to stop in mid-air.
The team quickly assembled. "What's going on, Potter?" He demanded.
"I'm being stalked by a rabid Bludger?" Harry replied. "Seems to want me. Not entirely certain why."
"Are you saying it's been tampered with?"
Harry looked at him incredulously. "You're supposed to be a Ravenclaw, Roger! Do you really think a Bludger would lust after me like this if it hadn't been tampered with?"
"If we call for an investigation, we forfeit the game." Cho said, glaring lightly at Harry. "If Potter can't handle it..."
"Back off." Harry replied. "I'd like to see you handle it." He turned back to Roger. "Keep playing. I'll deal with the little bugger myself." Without bothering to wait for a response, Harry shot off, keeping his eye on the rogue.
In the stands, Hermione was watching her boyfriend perform stunts that no sane man should ever try. "That's not right... Guess today really is the day..." She muttered as she watched the Bludger try and murder Harry. "Luna, can you tell us anything?"
She pondered for a moment. "A duck's quack does not echo."
"Anything relevant to the game?" Hermione shot back, exasperated.
Luna looked over at Harry, who was running his broom flat out. "He can do this, Hermione. Have faith in Harry, and he will win."
Go, Harry... be safe.
Harry continued his mad dash around the pitch, noticing that the Bludger was now able to keep pace with him. This should not be possible. Bludgers top speed is only 80... how the hell is it matching my broom? Dobby, I swear I'm gonna rip your little nuts off for this! Harry continued to circle, ducking and diving. At this rate, I can't catch the pissing snitch... At least it's only Cormac. I doubt he'd see it, even if it was hovering six inches in front of his nose. He started another Wronski, before changing his mind and performing a sudden vertical climb, pushing the broom for it's maximum performance.
Oh, I hope this works... Once he got to about a thousand feet, he levelled off, no longer looking for the snitch, but trying to keep himself alive. He spotted the Bludger approaching. With a quick gulp, he willed the broom to cut all it's power, allowing himself to begin a free fall. Without any aerodynamic life, he began tumbling about like a leaf in a storm. He approached the ground rapidly, noticing the Bludger heading straight for him at full speed. A second from impact, he re-engaged the broom, shooting straight forward and climbing.
The Bludger planted itself in the ground with a dull thud. Yes! Have it! Harry's celebration was cut short at the rogue yanked itself free and maintain it's pursuit.
By this time, the rogue Bludger had gained everyone's attention, prompting the crowd to subside into a kind of shocked silence.
Right, fuck this. Harry stopped his crazy manoeuvring, and headed from the Bludger, full speed. He gripped the handle tightly as he hiked up his legs, squatting on the broom before shakily standing up. The Bludger altered it's course slightly, heading straight for Harry's head. And this is where the story ends... Harry thought. As soon as the Bludger was close enough, Harry jumped up, somersaulting over the rogue. His broom continued flying, slowing as it approached the boundaries of the field.
Okay, the broom's safe... and I'm three hundred feet in the air...Harry wandlessly cast a low-powered Leviosa on the soles of his shoes, lowering himself to the ground, while summoning two beater's bats. Fred Weasley and Robert Lucas both protested as the bats flew out of their hands, landing neatly in Harry's.
As soon as he hit the ground, Harry infused the bats with a sizable portion of his own magic, making them glow a bright green. Come on... He tracked the Bludger which was racing for him. Come on... come to poppa, you little son of a bitch... He reared back, focussing his strength, before slamming the infused bat forward, causing the Bludger to... explode. A piece of shrapnel slammed into his chest, fortunately protected by his armour.
Dropping the bat in his left hand to the ground, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, while summoning the broom back to him.
Absolute silence reigned throughout the stadium as Harry stuffed the beater bats under his arms, remounted his broom and shot into the sky, passing a bat to Robert and the other to Fred, before shooting past McLaggen, grabbing the snitch from the sky.
"Potter destroys a Bludger, unprecedented in Hogwarts' history. Oh, and Ravenclaw wins." Lee deadpanned.
In the background, Harry could almost feel Dobby's annoyance and desperation. Don't try it again, dipshit. Any further thoughts were cut off as a bushy-haired missile tackled him, pushing him to the ground. Ah... things could be worse.
"Come on!" Hermione ordered bossily. "Straight to the hospital wing with you! Don't know what you were playing at..."
Escaping from the madwoman's clutches was relatively simple this time. Harry simply proved to the evil Queen of Medicine that he wasn't hurt, bleeding, broken or otherwise incapacitated. To his immense surprise, he was pulled into an intense hug, then given a stern poke in the arm for worrying her. He escaped after promising that he'd never explode a Bludger again, then retreated.
Once back in the common room, Harry racked his brain, trying to remember what was to come next. He knew that Colin Creevey was the next person to be petrified, then had a totally inappropriate thought. Little shit never did bring me those pictures he took. Hmm... there's an excuse to go and find him.
Hauling himself to his feet, he headed for the exit, leaving the rest of his friends behind. Ah, the things I must do...
Heading up to the seventh floor, he near-squealed when he found himself dragged into an empty classroom. His wand was in hand, and a stunner lit the tip, before he recognised his 'abductor'.
"Harry Potter should not have returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" The little voice complained.
"Can it, Dobby!" Harry snapped. "You nearly killed me, you little shit!"
"Not kill you, sir. Never kill you! Dobby just wanted to make sure you went home!"
"A Bludger to the head will splat it all over the damned field, Dobby! I'd have been sent home in a pissing box! Never do anything like that again, or I swear to Merlin, I'll rip your head off and spit you're your bloody neck!"
The elf sighed, before hauling himself onto a chair. "Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby receives them five times a day at home."
"Yeah? Well, Lucius Malfoy's a wanker, Dobby."
Dobby looked up, his eyes wide. "H-Harry Potter knows Dobby's family?"
"Yes, Dobby. I also know that Lucius Malfoy slipped a dark artefact into Ginny Weasley's cauldron back in August, and is attempting to return Voldemort to power."
"S-Sir is a great and powerful wizard!" The elf exclaimed dramatically.
"Save it, Dobby." Harry replied, tired. "I'm really not in the mood. Now, this plan of Malfoy's must be stopped, yes? Do you agree?"
Dobby nodded, before squealing and trying to bash his head against the back of the chair. Harry grabbed him by his pillow case, dangling in the air until he stopped trying to beat himself.
"So, Dobby, tell me this; how the hell am I supposed to destroy Voldemort's Horcrux if you've put me in the hospital wing or the morgue? Hmm?"
"Dobby must help keep Harry Potter safe!"
"No! Dobby, I order you to leave me alone, or I will have to put you down, do you understand! I will stop Malfoy. Try and free you, if possible, but I won't tolerate any more interference."
Dobby sighed dramatically. "Dobby understands, Harry Potter sir. Dobby will stay away."
"Good." Harry dropped Dobby lightly onto the chair. "Now, go back, and keep a low profile, Dobby. I'll be in touch."
Without waiting for a reply, Harry stalked out of the room, heading for Gryffindor tower.
Oh, bugger!
Was Harry's thought as he got onto the seventh floor. Lying in the corridor was a clearly petrified Colin Creevey, clutching his camera to his chest. I just know I'm gonna be blamed for this.
His prediction was accurate as Snape came stalking onto the corridor, Argus Filch hot on his heels.
And the day gets better and better...
"Potter!" Snape sneered widely. "What's this? Attacking students now, are we?"
"I know I'm good looking, Snape, but there's no need to be following me around, is there?" Harry returned Snape's sneer with interest, standing against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. "So, you gonna try and blame me for this?"
"Oh, I don't need to." Snape replied, a sick glee on his face. "You found, stood over the poor boy is all the proof I need."
"Really, Severus?" The voice of Albus Dumbledore filtered over the hallway. Behind him was Professor McGonagall, looking down at Colin with a fretful expression. "So, an accusation is synonymous with guilt now, is it?"
"Headmaster, what more proof do we need?" Snape asked, in what he thought was undoubtedly a reasonable tone. "Potter here is clearly guilty of attacking poor Mr. Creevey."
Harry, without being asked, handed over his wand. Dumbledore performed his now-standard Priori Incantatum, watching as routine classwork spells came out of the end.
"Enough of this petty grudge, Severus. Unless Mr. Potter is capable of ridiculously powerful wandless magic, or has a second wand, I will hear no more about it."
Well, I am capable of ridiculously powerful wandless magic... although, I'll never tell you about it. Harry maintained an innocent expression while looking at Dumbledore, then winking rakishly at Snape. The man turned puce, before turning back to Dumbledore.
"This is the second incident with Potter being involved, Headmaster. Do you not think this warrants investigation?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I have investigated, Severus. I have checked Mr. Potter's wand, and it clearly shows, as it did after the first attack, that he cast no spells that could cause this kind of injury."
"Perhaps." Snape conceded. "However, how do we know that Mr. Potter does not have a second wand?"
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, give it a rest!" Harry snapped. "I did not petrify Creevey, or the demon cat. The fact that I was the one to find them is coincidence, nothing more. Now, leave me alone!" He turned back to Dumbledore. "Sir, do you have any idea what this could be?"
McGonagall spoke up. "He still has his camera, Albus. Perhaps he managed to take a picture of his attacker."
Dumbledore nodded, pulling the camera from Colin's hand, and opening the back. A hiss of smoke, not to mention the rotten smell of burning plastic, assaulted the corridor. McGonagall watched the film flash into smoke, before looking at the headmaster.
"What could do this to magical film, Albus? It's nearly indestructible." She glanced down at the camera. "What does it mean?"
"It means..." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It means that the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened, Minerva."
We already knew that. Harry thought. "Sir? May I be dismissed?"
"Hmm?" Dumbledore looked up. "Ah, yes, Harry. Please, return to your common room."
The days following that were some of the most uncomfortable Harry had experienced during his second run-through of his Hogwarts days. Someone (Snape, obviously) had revealed that Harry had been seen standing over poor defenceless Colin Creevey when he was attacked.
Harry had immediately told his friends what had happened, then retreated into his Portkey Box, officially working on upgrades and new systems, but in reality, he was hiding. He was... unaccustomed to dealing with this many hostile stares. It seemed Snape and Malfoy had really been riling up the students, prompting sneers and nastiness. And it's only gonna get worse... He mused sadly, poring over the Marauder's Map.
Three weeks after the incident, Harry was slumped in armchair in the common room, idly leafing through 'Casino Royale' while Hedwig was reading intently over his shoulder; she hadn't read this one before, and knew that her human pet had enjoyed it.
"Hey, Harry, look!" Harry looked over at Hermione, who was pointing over at the notice board, a gleaming new sign written in lilac ink taking pride of place. "There's going to be a duelling club. It's tonight in the Great Hall."
"Wonder who they've got to teach it?"
Hermione shrugged. "Well, Flitwick was a five-time duelling champion when he was younger, so it could be him."
"I'd love to learn from him." Padma smiled as she flopped on the couch near Harry's chair, Hedwig sparing her a glance before going back to the book. "Good book, Hedwig?"
She snuffled appreciatively before going back to reading.
"Harry, you want to tell me why your owl is reading a book?"
Harry didn't even bother to look up. "Because the movie stars David Niven, and it's crap. It makes no sense, the plot's pretty complex and doesn't survive the screen, and it..." He shrugged. "Trust me, the book's better."
"Allow me to rephrase, then. Why is your owl reading? Owls don't read."
Hedwig barked suddenly, the rebuke clear.
"Okay, I guess they do read." Padma leaned in to Hermione, whispering in the brunette's ear. "Are we sure she's an owl?"
"Honestly? No. But don't voice it too loud, she knows... things."
Harry saw the two girls whispering, knowing that they were talking about Hedwig and her abilities. "Well, shall we go and have dinner? We can then go to the duelling club."
Harry and his group of friends were watching the Great Hall, teeming with students, all of them looking forward to duelling lessons, maybe from Flitwick, and possibly from Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards in the history of the school. The students were all going to be disappointed when they found out that the club would be run by...
"Me, Gilderoy Lockhart! Can everybody hear me? Can everybody see me?"
In those robes? Merlin, they'd be lucky to miss you. "Hey, Hermione, I think I'm going to go back to the Common room. If this git's teaching, then I'm out of here. There's nothing this ponce knows that I want to learn." Harry headed for the door, only to be spotted by Lockhart, who immediately called him.
"Ah, Harry, good to see you here, although I'm fairly certain that you know a little bit about defence." Lockhart suddenly smiled. "You can watch myself and my assistant during the first duel, then perform a demonstration duel for us!"
Ooh, such a tempting offer! Harry thought, then cheered up a little. And it's a chance to hex Snape... hmm, decisions, decisions... He nodded slowly, knowing this had to happen in order to keep the timeline relatively intact. 'Relative' being the operative word.
Lockhart pranced up onto the duelling platform, his robes making most people wince from the sheer luridness. "You all know my assistant, Professor Snape!"
A few of the Slytherins gave a half-hearted clap, while the rest of the students remained studiously silent. Snape mounted the platform, his face it's customary sneer.
"Don't worry. You'll still have your Potions Master when I've finished with him." Lockhart proclaimed loudly.
"Yeah, but will Snape leave anything of Lockhart apart from a greasy spot on the floor?" Harry whispered to Hermione, who giggled quietly, before passing on the comment to Susan and Padma.
"Now, we duel!" Lockhart proclaimed, brandishing his wand at Snape, who'd already loudly intoned "Expelliarmus!" Lockhart flew backwards, his wand flying out of his hand, but to the surprise of all, Snape also flew backwards, crashing into Millicent Bullstrode and Theodore Nott. No-one noticed Harry's hand twitch.
Lockhart pulled himself back up to his feet, looking over at the slumped Snape with astonishment, then a kind of sick pride. Harry could almost see the fop thinking 'I did that?'. He decided not to disabuse him of the notion.
"As you can see, we both used the Disarming charm, 'Expelliarmus'. That's why our wands flew out of our hands." He took his wand back from a heavily-blushing Lavender Brown, before remounting the stage, and turning back to the audience. "Professor Snape, can you think of a suitable opponent for young Mr. Potter's demonstration duel?"
Snape sneered. "I'd be more than happy to duel Mr. Potter."
Lockhart laughed nervously. "I rather think that you might be too much for a student, Professor. Perhaps one of your students?"
"Malfoy!" The greasy man gestured, and Malfoy, smirking mightily, got up on the duelling platform, his wand held loosely in his hand.
"Scared, Potter?"
Harry, as soon as Draco had decided to challenge him, had moved up to the duelling platform. He had very little time for the Slytherin; he was ineffectual as an opponent, and there was little point in getting upset as his usual diatribe, but the chance to hex him without punishment? Far too much fun to ignore.
"Yes." Harry deadpanned. "Absolutely terrified. Look, you can see my hand shaking." He raised his left hand, wiggling it about comically. "I may even have soiled myself." He paused for a moment. "How're you doing with that, by the way? The itching gone?"
Malfoy's face turned puce, a truly unattractive colour considering his pale complexion and almost-white hair.
Lockhart was standing in the middle of the platform, announcing to the crowd and combatants. "The duel is to disarm only. After the count of three. Good luck, gentlemen." Snape was furiously whispering in to Draco's ear, probably trying to teach the half-squib a spell quickly.
"One."
Harry raised his wand in a salute, while Draco scowled.
"Two."
Draco's wand was already moving, while he shouted out "Serpensortia!"
A large brown cobra erupted from the end of the wand, landing in a heap in the middle of the platform, hissing angrily as it hit the ground. It immediately began to read up, opening its hood, hissing angrily. It's eyes focussed on Justin Finch-Fletchley, and started to slither its way towards him.
Harry gritted his teeth for a moment, not eager to go through the prejudice the students heaped on him the first time around. Bollocks to it.
§Leave him.§
Everyone, including the snake, turned towards him, looks of horror on their faces.
"Justin, take one step backwards." Harry spoke calmly, but firmly, prompting the Hufflepuff to take one step backwards. His movement caught the snake's attention, raising itself up.
§Do not move!§ Harry commanded, making the snake pause for a moment. "Justin, one more step back. Slow and steady." The terrified lad took another smooth step backwards.
§Let me eat him.§ The snake hissed, looking up at Harry.
§No. You will stand down.§ Harry shook his head. "Justin, two steps back. Again, slow and easy."
Justin took a step back, then another.
§Come with me.§ Harry commanded, taking a step forward. "Justin, three steps back. You should be okay, now." He didn't both to watch. §Stand down.§ The snake pulled in it's hood, lowered it's head, and started moving towards Harry, who knelt down, extending his non-wand hand towards the snake. §Climb up. I shall take you to a forest, where you can find food and shelter.§
§Thank you, Speaker.§
Harry picked up the snake, letting the fearsome creature wrap itself around Harry's arm, resting it's head on Harry's shoulder. He turned to his opponent. "You know, Malfoy, I'm not sure how things happen in your house, or what kind of utterly crap education you've had, but in the rest of the world, three comes after two. And when someone says 'on three', they mean that you wait until you've heard the three before casting your spell.
"I also don't know if you're aware, but the charm is pronounced Ex-Pell-E-Ar-Muss. Not quite sure why you thought it began with an 'S', but that's okay." Harry smiled magnanimously at the confused student, before turning to his most hated teacher. "Professor Snape, I'm most curious as to why you're teaching Dark and potentially fatal spells to second-year students. Something to ask Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure."
The cobra watched comfortably from Harry's arm as he moved through the crowd towards Hermione, who was watching everyone scatter away from Harry like roaches, apart from his friends.
"Harry, what's going on?"
"You're a Parselmouth?" Neville looked, not afraid, but surprised. "I was taught that all Parselmouths are Dark wizards. Guess that's another thing the books are wrong about." Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville for that statement.
"What's a Parselmouth?" Hermione looked upset; Harry realised that there was something which, looking at the rest of the students in the Hall, was important, and she didn't know what it was.
"A Parselmouth is somebody who can speak to snakes and, to a lesser extent, other reptiles, like dragons and lizards. The skill is considered very Dark." Blaise looked at the snake appraisingly for a moment. "Ovophis Monticola. Beautiful." He stroked a finger over the cobra's head, which appeared to enjoy the attention. "And, if memory serves, quite deadly."
"Possibly. I think a trip down to the Forbidden Forest might be in order. I think my friend here would like the Forest rather than a dorm room."
"But why is being a Parselmouth considered Dark?" Hermione asked, not sure why this sort of thing was so terrifying to the students.
Neville took this one. "Some of the Darkest magic around requires snakes, either bits of them as ingredients, or the willing co-operation of a snake, which only a Parselmouth can get. You-Know-Who was the last Parselmouth around, and he used snakes to do some truly evil things." Neville suddenly blanched. "Oh, bugger."
"What is it?" Susan, who was actually playing peek-a-boo with a poisonous snake, suddenly looked at him. "What's wrong?"
"Slytherin was a Parselmouth. They called him Serpent-Tongue." He gestured towards the badge of Blaise's robe. "That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a snake. Remember what Binns said in History class? The Chamber of Secrets holds a monster that Slytherin's heir can control, to eliminate all those who aren't worthy out of the school. Harry can portkey through the wards of the school, something only a Founder's heir can do. Everyone's going to believe that Harry Potter, 'Boy-Who-Lived', is the heir of Slytherin, and a future Dark Lord."
"I'm in trouble." Harry said, a wry smile on his face. "Must be Tuesday."
As Harry walked in to the Great Hall the next morning, he saw the entire room suddenly quieten down, staring at him as if they expected him to start his campaign of torture and murder right there and then, summoning snakes to do his evil bidding.
§Good morning, everyone. How are we all today?§ One of the fourth year Hufflepuff's shrieked, and hugged the boy next to her, crying about how she didn't want her parents to die at Harry's hands.
"Merlin, people, get over yourselves. Je parle Francais, aussi." He saw people looking at him confusedly. "I speak French, too. Does that mean that all of a sudden, you should fear me because I speak the language of France?"
He sat down at the Ravenclaw table, watching people scurrying away from him. "Hey, Justin." The boy turned in his seat, looking at Harry intently. "You were about to be bitten by a poisonous cobra yesterday. Did it bite you?"
"No."
"And you know why? Because I told it not to. I told it to come to me, and I would take it to the forest, which I did last night. You're all safe, because of me."
"You're a Dark wizard, Potter. You should be in Azkaban!" Harry rolled his eyes as he heard Ron Weasley's voice behind him.
"You know, Weasley, I've worked out how you're as thin as you are, despite how much you eat; all that jumping to conclusions and flying off the handle must be pretty tiring."
"Sod off, Potter. You're a Dark wizard. I bet you're the Heir of Slytherin. Going to kill off all of the Mudbloods in the school?"
Ron suddenly flinched as something hit him on the cheek, quite close to his eye. Harry smiled as he saw Blaise wrap another elastic band round his finger, ready for another shot. Unfortunately, everyone around him appeared to be murmuring about the same thing; Harry Potter must be the Hair of Slytherin, and he should be in Azkaban.
"Have none of you bloody looked up the Heir of Slytherin?" Harry asked incredulously.
Several students muttered in the negative.
"Well, here's a plan for you, then." Harry announced. "Why don't you go and bloody well look it up in the library? For people like Ron Weasley who are so thick it's untrue, that's the room on the third floor with all the pretty books in it. I'll accept your apologies when you come back."
"It's you!" Ron snapped loudly.
Harry ignored the redhead, and whispered something to Hermione. Her eyes opened widely. "Really?" She, in turn, whispered to Neville, Susan, Padma and Blaise. Luna just smiled, indicating she already knew.
"Do you know who it is, Potter?" One of the Hufflepuffs shouted.
"Yep." Harry replied casually. "But I'm not telling you. Go and look it up." He ignored the clamouring at slumped down at the Ravenclaw table, noting that the students quickly moved out of the way. He was glad that his six core friends were standing by him. In the original timeline, only Hermione had stuck with his steadfast, with Ron being a little distant, since he hated Slytherins with a fiery passion.
As if on cue, Hermione leaned closer to him. "We know the truth, Harry. That's all the matters." She squeezed his hand, before reaching for the coffee pot.
"Well, I must say, Harry, when you surprise people, you do it in a most spectacular fashion."
"Thank you, sir. I do aim to please." Harry was sat in Dumbledore's office, Professors Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall also in chairs around the office. "I have to be honest, though, sir. I'm wondering why Snape taught Malfoy a spell to summon a snake. At what point could that be considered the disarming hex?"
"I did not teach that charm to Mr. Malfoy. I do not know where he could've learnt it."
"Why don't you put your hand on your wand and swear that on your magic, Snape? I'd love to see you turn in to a squib."
"Mr. Potter! Please refrain yourself." Dumbledore turned towards Snape. "Well, Severus? You were seen talking to a student moments before he cast a hex that is not taught at this institution, one that could've and, for all you knew, would've severely injured or killed Mr. Potter, a student we all know that you despise and have a grudge against. Do you have any way of proving that you did not teach Mr. Malfoy that hex?
Snape just sat there, saying nothing.
"Very well. I am deducting 100 points from Slytherin for Mr. Malfoy's hex, which could've been fatal. I am also putting you on probation, Severus. I've been willing to tolerate your personal foibles, but this is beyond the pale. Any other action against Mr. Potter, and your fate shall be decided by Filius." Flitwick looked up, gleeful at the prospect of facing Severus at the end of his wand. "Any questions?"
Snape shook his head, stunned at what had happened to him. Ever since Potter arrived at this school, I've been persecuted by the faculty. That boy needs to be taken down a peg. "I shall follow your directions, Headmaster. May I leave?"
Dumbledore nodded, and Snape left the room. "Albus, he's getting worse. We could easily have seen a student in the hospital wing, or even a student death." McGonagall was getting in to her stride. "I would recommend that Severus be at least suspended and a full review of his years here be started immediately."
"I trust Severus Snape, Minerva. It just appears that he has a bit of a blind spot with young Potter. Severus needs to be here teaching." He saw his deputy eye his with disdain in her eye. "Do not worry yourself, old friend. I am keeping an eye on him. With me in this school, nothing bad will happen to Harry Potter."
Harry almost laughed at the statement. If there's ever a way to cause a problem, that's it. It's like saying "Hey, watch this!" or "What could possibly go wrong?" I'm so screwed, it's not even funny.
Harry wandered in to the Great Hall for dinner that evening, having gone through a very routine set of classes for the day. As he sat down, he could hear students muttering about him being the evil Slytherin trying to destroy the school.
"Right, that's it!" Harry stood up on the bench, looking around the Hall. "Okay, who here went to the Library and looked up at the Slytherin Genealogy?
Silence.
"And yet, you all have the nerve to accuse me of being the bloody Heir." Harry snapped. "I have looked it up, and I do know who the Heir of Slytherin is." This garnered the attention of the vast majority of the Great Hall. "In the Genealogy section of the Library it talks about the old familial lines." He gazed down at them. "I'll give you a hint. Being a Parselmouth is a trait that is only seen in the Slytherin line. However, this... gift... is not native to the Potter line."
Hermione's brain, probably the fastest in school, worked it out first. "Your scar." She whispered.
Harry clicked his fingers as his hand shot out to Hermione. "There it is." He smiled warmly at her. "My scar gives me my ability to speak Parseltongue."
Percy Weasley stood up. "You mean... the Heir of Slytherin is... You-Know-Who?"
Harry actually growled on the stage. Through clenched teeth, he spat out a response. "No, Percy, I don't know who you're talking about."
"He means He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Potter!" One of the Hufflepuff prefects shouted.
Harry theatrically turned to Dumbledore. "Sir?"
"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore looked down at one of his 'favourite' students with a twinkle in his eye.
"Do you know who they're talking about?"
Dumbledore pretended to think for a moment. "I do believe they're talking about Lord Voldemort, Harry."
"Ah. Voldemort. Indeed." Harry ignored the pathetic little yelps from the rest of the student body. "Yes. Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin. I am not." He thought for a moment. "However..." This dragged everyone's attention back to the present. "I suppose... thinking about it... I could be classed as the Heir to the magic of Slytherin... by the Ancient Rites of Combat... since I destroyed Voldemort's body back in '81..."
"That's not true, Harry." Dumbledore spoke up loudly. "In order for you to become the Heir by Combat, you would have needed to kill Voldemort."
"Oh." Harry said, looking back at Dumbledore. "You mean... he's not dead yet?" He winked at Dumbledore.
"No. At the moment, he is banished... existing as nothing more than a spirit... mist in the wind. Until he dies, you cannot be the Heir."
"Oh." Harry sounded oddly disappointed, before he turned around to face the students of the school. "So, you've just heard from Professor Dumbledore, probably the greatest wizard in the world, that I cannot be the Heir of Slytherin." He smiled warmly at the school, which was quickly replaced by a mask of cold anger. "So, if you could all stop pointing, whispering, sniggering and generally being offensive towards me, I'd appreciate it."
"But, what about your ability to speak Parseltongue?" Ron Weasley shouted from the Gryffindor table. "Doesn't that prove you're a dark wizard?"
Harry just glared at him. "Were you even listening to me, Weasley?" He snapped. "I just told you that the Parseltongue ability was passed to me during Voldemort's failed killing curse eleven years ago. How can that make me a dark wizard?"
Ron Weasley, never the sharpest crayon in the box, shouted what he thought was the perfect response. "Because you speak Parseltongue!"
Fred and George took that moment to launch a full broadside of Bread Rolls at their little brother, pelting him with the hardest ones they could find, until he finally shut up.