Hogwarts had never been silent, not truly. Even in the stillness of late night or the lull between classes, the castle breathed with hidden life. Whispers behind walls, shifting staircases, flickering shadows. But lately, it wasn't just Hogwarts itself that felt restless—it was the students. And nowhere was that more obvious than in the whispers that chased Harry Potter down every corridor.
"Did you hear?" "Another attack." "Someone said Potter was there again."
Harry tried to drown it out. He focused on lessons, on Quidditch, on anything but the growing fear gripping the school. But the looks were harder to ignore. Even some Gryffindors had started giving him wary glances.
That morning at breakfast, Hermione was unusually quiet, flipping through Hogwarts: A History as though it might hold a solution. Ron was buttering toast aggressively, muttering, "Bunch of cowards. Like you'd ever hurt anyone."
"I just wish I knew why this is happening again," Harry muttered.
Before either friend could answer, Professor McGonagall swept through the Hall, her voice raised enough to be heard over the chatter.
"Attention. Professor Lockhart has organized a special event for today after classes—students are invited to attend the first-ever Hogwarts Dueling Club."
"A Dueling Club?" Ron blinked. "This should be good."
Hermione's eyes lit up. "We might learn proper defensive spells! Maybe even see Professor Snape demonstrate—"
Ron groaned. "Yeah, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to work with Lockhart."
---
That evening, the Great Hall had been cleared of tables and decked with a long golden platform. Students gathered along the walls, buzzing with curiosity. Harry stood near the front with Ron and Hermione, staring up at the stage.
Lockhart emerged first, in flamboyant violet robes. "Welcome!" he said, flashing a too-white smile. "Tonight, you'll learn the noble art of self-defense!"
Snape appeared a moment later, as if summoned by disdain itself, his black robes trailing like spilled ink.
Lockhart clapped a hand on Snape's shoulder. "And here we have Professor Snape, who has graciously agreed to help me demonstrate."
Snape's expression was murderous.
The two professors took their places on the platform. Wands raised.
"One... two... three!" Lockhart shouted.
Snape didn't hesitate. "Expelliarmus!"
Lockhart flew backward off the platform and landed with a crash. The students erupted with laughter—except for Snape, who looked like he hadn't enjoyed himself at all.
"Perhaps," Snape drawled, stepping down, "we should pair the students before more damage is done."
To Harry's dismay, Snape's eyes flicked to him.
"Potter. Malfoy. Front and center."
Draco swaggered up with a smirk. Harry sighed and climbed up after him.
"Wands at the ready," Lockhart chirped. "Now bow."
Neither of them bowed. They barely nodded.
"Begin!"
"Rictusempra!" Harry shouted.
Draco doubled over laughing, but only for a second. He snarled and fired back. "Serpensortia!"
A long black snake shot from Draco's wand, hissing as it hit the ground and slithered toward Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Students screamed. Justin froze.
"Don't move," Harry said instinctively, stepping forward. "Leave him alone."
The snake paused. And then, to everyone's shock—including Harry's—it turned and lowered its head.
"Potter!" snapped Snape. "What are you doing?"
Harry blinked. "I… I don't know."
Whispers broke out across the room.
"He spoke Parseltongue." "Like a snake." "Just like Salazar Slytherin…"
Justin bolted from the room. The snake vanished with a flick of Snape's wand.
The excitement had curdled.
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him aside.
"You didn't mean to do that, right?"
"No!" Harry said. "I didn't even realize it was weird until everyone started looking at me like that."
Ron looked shaken. "Mate… Parseltongue. That's not normal. That's Dark magic stuff."
Snape was watching from the shadows. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes lingered longer than usual.
---
Later that night, Snape knocked on Dumbledore's door.
"You saw it?" the Headmaster asked.
"I did," Snape replied. "And I believe Potter didn't know what he was doing."
"Still, it complicates things," Dumbledore murmured.
Snape didn't respond. He thought about the snake. About the way Harry had stood there—confused, scared, and alone. And for reasons he wouldn't say aloud, that image stayed with him longer than it should have.