The Great Hall was almost unrecognisable. All the long tables had vanished, and along one of the walls stood a wide duelling platform, lit by dozens of floating torches. This was where the students were meant to fight. No, nobody was planning to kill anyone. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had simply decided to organise a proper Duelling Club and had invited the entire school.
In the centre of the hall, right beside the platform, the professors were already standing — Severus Snape and Gilderoy Lockhart. Lockhart was gleaming like a brand-new Galleon. His lilac robes shimmered in the torchlight, and his hair sparkled as though someone had cast a special shine charm on it. Which, frankly, might very well have been the case.
Hermione was thrilled by Lockhart's initiative.
"At last someone has decided to give students not just theory, but real practice against a real opponent!" she proclaimed, her face glowing. "It's nothing like duelling a motionless dummy. That's what a real and experienced Auror looks like! Comparing him with anyone else is simply ridiculous!"
Ron pulled a face as though he had just bitten into a lemon.
"We'll see what comes of all this," he muttered, casting a gloomy look at Lockhart, who at that very moment was carefully adjusting a curl at his temple using a silver mirror engraved with the monogram 'G.L.'
"I understand," Hermione nodded. "You're just nervous because of your broken wand. Of course, missing an event like this —"
"What's my wand got to do with it?!" Ron burst out. "And anyway, I'm not planning to duel with anyone!"
She nodded again in understanding, not noticing Ron rolling his eyes in despair. Then she looked around.
Students from all the houses had gathered for the Duelling Club — some eager to take part, some out of curiosity, and some simply for company. The hall buzzed like a beehive: everyone was talking, exchanging glances, whispering. Some were already boasting about how easily they would deal with their opponent, while others simply listened and nodded. But everyone was eagerly waiting for the show to begin.
At last, Gilderoy Lockhart stepped onto the platform. He flashed a dazzling smile and instantly drew everyone's attention. His speech was short but — to give him credit — quite theatrical. He carefully explained the rules of the duels, not forgetting to give his wand a couple of showy flourishes, as if demonstrating how easily he could deal with any opponent.
Naturally, as a world-famous fighter against the forces of evil, he personally volunteered to demonstrate a duel. Professor Snape, meanwhile, was supposed to try to offer him worthy — though entirely pointless — resistance.
Snape stepped onto the platform in his usual black robes — dark as a storm cloud over the sea. His face said everything about what he thought of the whole affair: he looked as though he were mentally adding this duel to the list of the most tedious items in his schedule for the year.
"Lockhart will defeat Snape quickly," Hermione whispered, watching the platform with quiet hope. "He's been through so much… He's fought vampires! And werewolves! And—"
"…and his own shadow," Ron muttered under his breath.
Hermione merely shook her head disapprovingly, as though he had just said something particularly disgraceful. She, of course, was rooting for Lockhart — as were most of the girls in the hall. As he strode along the duelling platform, flashing his teeth and tossing back his hair in a rather flirtatious way, restrained sighs and excited whispers kept drifting from all sides. His appearance, as always, had the effect of a mild love potion.
The duel did indeed end very quickly: with a single flick of his wand, Snape disarmed Lockhart, who spun through the air with an acrobatic pirouette and a ringing "Ah!" before flying back a couple of metres and landing on the platform with a loud thud.
His hairstyle, however, survived intact — the perfectly arranged curls had not moved an inch. Lockhart glanced at his little mirror out of the corner of his eye and let out a relieved breath; apparently, that was what concerned him most. He immediately jumped to his feet, calmly dusted off his robes, and at once began explaining that he had, of course, deliberately allowed Snape to disarm him — purely so that the students could clearly appreciate the power of the Disarming Charm, Expelliarmus. And naturally, so that his less experienced colleague could enjoy the rare pleasure of victory.
Hermione, glowing with admiration, nodded eagerly.
"There! You see? I told you! A true gentleman and a strategist! He planned everything!"
Ron simply slapped his palm against his forehead and shook his head.
Meanwhile, having finished putting himself back in order after such a dramatic demonstration, Lockhart stepped forward like the host of a magical show and, with a radiant smile, began pairing the students up. Hermione held her breath, listening for the names. Who would she be matched with?
"And now — our top student! The excellent Miss Granger!" Lockhart announced enthusiastically, flashing her his trademark dazzling smile.
Hermione flushed. Her cheeks turned pink with a mix of pride and embarrassment.
"And who will dare face her?" Lockhart continued, sweeping his gaze across the hall and making Hermione blush even more. "I have no doubt it must be a truly brave soul!"
But before Lockhart could name anyone, Snape's voice sounded beside him.
"Millicent Bulstrode."
"Ah?" Lockhart faltered for a moment. "M-m… Millicent?"
Turning around, he saw a tall, broad-shouldered Slytherin girl stepping out of the crowd with a heavy stride. She crossed the hall without taking her icy gaze off Hermione and stopped opposite her.
"Ah, yes! Millicent! Excellent, excellent!" Lockhart exclaimed, immediately turning away. "Who's next?" he said, already moving on to the next pair.
Hermione turned to her opponent. The girl stood with her legs planted wide apart, as if preparing not for a duel but for a fight. There wasn't the slightest doubt in her eyes about how the match would end. She was openly sizing Hermione up. Then her gaze slid to the wand in Hermione's hand, and the corners of her mouth twitched.
"You probably hide your wand when you go home, don't you?" Millicent raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a crooked grin. "Just in case your Muggle parents mistake it for a bit of rubbish and throw it away."
She gave a coarse little snicker, clearly enjoying the image.
"My parents know perfectly well that I'm a witch," Hermione shot back. "And they also know that a wand is used for magic!"
"Magic?" Millicent drawled. "You think that just because you got into Hogwarts, read a pile of books, and wave a wand around, you actually understand what magic is?"
She leaned closer; her voice dropped, quieter and nastier.
"Magic isn't the wand, the words, or the books. Magic is in the blood." Millicent fell silent for a second, then, as if suddenly remembering something, added, "Oh, sorry…" She covered her mouth with her hand in a mock gesture. Then, clearly, spitting out every word, she said, "After all, there's no magic in your blood."
Hermione flushed. At that very moment Lockhart's voice rang out across the hall:
"On the count of three, begin! One… two… three!"
"Stupefy!" Millicent shouted first.
Angry, Hermione almost missed the attack — only at the last moment did she jump back, but she stumbled and fell flat on her back. The flash of the spell shot past her.
"Stupefy!" Millicent repeated, this time with a triumphant note, pointing her wand at Hermione lying on the floor.
Hermione barely managed to raise a magical shield — the spell rebounded with a dull boom, lighting up the hall with a bright flash. Millicent fought roughly, with no finesse at all, but she undoubtedly had power. That much could not be denied.
"What's the matter, not used to real magic?" she growled smugly. "Not the same as digging through books, is it?"
"Reducto!" Hermione fired back, scrambling to her feet.
But Millicent dodged with surprising agility for someone of her build and immediately launched a counterattack. They began circling each other, trading spells, deflecting them, throwing up shields.
At last Hermione decided to take a risk and, instead of another defensive spell, shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
A split second before the next spell burst from Millicent's wand, her wand flew into the air and shot off somewhere to the side.
"That's not fair!" Millicent roared, and the very next moment she lunged at Hermione with her fists.
Before Hermione could even understand what was happening, she was knocked off her feet. Millicent crashed down on top of her, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and trying to pin her to the floor. Hermione gasped for breath, pushing back with all her strength. Millicent was stronger, clearly superior in physical strength, and resisting was becoming harder and harder. Despite her desperate situation, Hermione's gaze caught on a single hair on the Slytherin girl's robe.
The thought of Polyjuice Potion flashed through her mind. She needed a piece of one of the Slytherin girls if she wanted to get into their dormitory. Without thinking, Hermione jerked suddenly and pinched Millicent hard on the arm — right where the precious hair was visible. Millicent let out an angry squeal and raised her hand to strike — but at that moment Harry rushed in and, with difficulty, pulled them apart.
Hermione, breathing hard, got up from the floor, clutching her 'catch' in her fist. Glancing around the hall, she saw they were far from the only ones in trouble. The duels had clearly not gone as planned. Some students were rubbing bruises, others were glaring angrily at their opponents, and a few were struggling to get back to their feet.
"At least everyone's still alive…" she muttered, catching her breath.
"For now," Ron added darkly, stepping closer and looking over the chaos. "If you ask me, your favourite won't stop until he gets someone killed."
Hermione glanced towards the platform — and Ron, unfortunately, was right. Lockhart and Snape seemed set on staging another demonstration duel — this time between two students. Within a minute, the candidates had been chosen. To an approving murmur from the crowd, Harry and Draco stepped onto the duelling platform and took their places opposite each other.
"Three… two… one!" came Lockhart's voice, and on the last word Draco shouted the spell first:
"Serpensortia!"
Something long and black shot out of his wand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
For a moment, Hermione thought the spell hadn't worked — she assumed Malfoy had tried to bind Harry with straps. But a second later it became clear just how wrong she was. It wasn't a strap. It was a snake — and a fairly large one at that. It hissed and, writhing, began to slither towards Harry. Hermione froze, suddenly terrified. She didn't like snakes and was a bit wary of them.
Lockhart was the first to recover. He quickly muttered some spell. The snake shot up into the air and… dropped back onto the floor completely unharmed, though clearly quite angry. Hissing, it turned and darted towards one of the students.
The students recoiled in panic; someone screamed… And then something strange happened. Harry… hissed. Literally. He hissed like a real snake — and, more disturbingly, the black snake seemed to understand him. It stopped, coiled up, and fixed its gaze on him.
'The Heir of Slytherin!' flashed through Hermione's mind. She stared at Harry, eyes wide… then immediately shook her head. 'No, that can't be!'
"What do you think you're playing at?" came the indignant voice of Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff — the very student the snake had been heading for. Having shouted this, and clearly shaken, he bolted out of the room.
Snape stepped up to the snake, flicked his wand, and it vanished. For a moment, silence fell over the hall. Everyone was staring at Harry. Only then did it truly sink in for Hermione what had just happened. If even her first thought had been that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin… what would everyone else think?
At that moment she saw Ron grab Harry by the arm and drag him out of the hall. Hermione immediately ran after them.
Harry looked very pleased. But his face quickly darkened when they explained that it was Salazar Slytherin himself who had been able to understand and speak the language of snakes — known as Parseltongue. That meant everyone would now think he was Slytherin's descendant, and that he was the one who had opened the Chamber of Secrets.
Harry's mood soured. He seemed to dim. Hermione even felt a stab of guilt — they had practically rubbed his nose in it. But then again…
What else could they have done?
***
The next day, the whole castle was buzzing. Everywhere, students were talking about Harry and the fact that he could understand Parseltongue. Wherever Hermione went — with Harry or on her own — that was all anyone talked about. They kept glancing their way, whispering, exchanging looks. Even those who pretended not to notice were watching out of the corner of their eyes — as if waiting for the wildest rumours to be confirmed.
Fed up with it all, she went up to her dormitory, hoping to read for a while and take her mind off things. She had just told Harry to speak to Justin — to explain that he hadn't set the snake on him, but had actually told it to leave the Hufflepuff alone. Hermione really believed it might help.
But the moment she stepped into the dormitory, her roommates, who had been chatting animatedly just a second before, fell silent at once. She immediately knew what they had been talking about and paused in the doorway for a moment, then silently walked over to her bed. Picking up a book from the bedside table, she sat down and opened it at random, hoping they would leave her alone.
She hadn't read more than a couple of lines when Lila sat down beside her. Raising an eyebrow conspiratorially, she asked in a low voice:
"Hermione, come on, tell us. You know Harry better than anyone. Is it true? Is he really the Heir of Slytherin?"
Hermione sighed and slowly lowered her book. It seemed there was no avoiding the unpleasant conversation. Still, maybe this was her chance to help Harry, at least a little.
"Of course not. It's just nonsense," she said firmly, trying to keep her voice steady and calm.
"Yeah… maybe," Lila said uncertainly, not taking her eyes off her. "But he was talking to that snake. You saw it yourself. It's strange, Hermione. Don't you think?"
"There's nothing strange about it," Hermione replied calmly. "It's a rare magical ability. Very rare — I'll agree with that. But the fact that Harry has it doesn't make him the Heir of Slytherin. That's like saying if you like cats, you must like McGonagall."
Lila snorted.
"But only dark wizards can talk to snakes," she pressed on. "So what — Harry's a dark wizard?"
"How can you even say that?!" Hermione snapped. "He fought You-Know-Who! Last year!"
"I think it all looks very suspicious," Nora cut in. She was sitting on her bed, lazily brushing her hair. "You can't possibly know for sure, Hermione. If Harry really is the Heir, it'd be nothing for him to fool a trusting little friend like you," she finished with a sneer.
"He didn't even realise he was speaking Parseltongue!" Hermione shot back. "He thought he was speaking normally! Harry can't be the Heir of Slytherin. He would never —"
"Oh, of course, whatever you say," Nora cut her off. "You're devoted to Harry Potter like the most loyal house-elf. What was it you said last year? Oh yes — he's the bravest, the kindest, practically an angel!"
She slapped the brush against her knee, watching Hermione with cold amusement.
"Though maybe that's why he'll spare you when he turns everyone else to stone. You'll be the only Gryffindor left alive. The whole tower — just for you and Harry. Then again… what do you need a tower for? You'll have the entire Hogwarts library at your disposal."
Hermione's eyes flashed with anger.
"Well, if you ask me, you don't have to worry about being turned to stone. People with hearts of stone don't get petrified," she shot back.
Nora opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment Lila stepped in, raising a hand like a referee.
"Girls, girls, calm down," she said, a note of tension in her voice. "Hermione, that's enough. Nora, that's enough. Why are you at each other's throats again? We're not about to start a second round of the Duelling Club in the dormitory."
Hermione sighed and turned away. She forced herself to pick up her book, hiding her face behind it.
"I'm just saying Harry isn't the Heir of Slytherin," she muttered. "And I know him well enough to say that."
"Alright, alright, Hermione," Lila said more gently, getting up from her bed. "Everyone's a bit on edge. You, Nora… all of us. With these attacks, Halloween, all the rumours… We don't really mean any of this about Harry. It's just… everyone's saying it, so we are too… Right, Nora? You don't really mean it, do you?"
Nora was silent for a moment. Then a malicious spark lit up in her eyes.
"Of course not," she said in an unexpectedly sweet voice. "Harry won't spare Hermione either."
Her face spread into a wide smile, but her eyes stayed sharp and mean.
"Stop it!" Olivia suddenly shouted from her bed.
There was clear fear in her voice, and her eyes were shining with it. She flinched at her own outburst, but didn't look away, continuing more quietly, almost in a whisper:
"Just… stop. This isn't funny. It's frightening."
Silence fell over the room. Nora gave a small snort but said nothing more. Hermione lowered her eyes to the open book, but the lines blurred together without making sense. She nervously bit her lower lip, turning Nora's cutting words over and over in her mind, along with Harry's snake language and the sideways looks from their classmates…
Then voices rose from downstairs — loud, excited, and frightened. Lila went to the door, opened it a crack, and called out to someone. A reply came from below, and she slowly turned back. Her face seemed to sink in an instant.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick have been petrified," she said, her voice shaking.
Olivia let out a small squeal and clapped her hands over her mouth.
"They've been attacked…" Lila glanced at Hermione and added quietly, "And Harry Potter was there."