Chapter 19, everybody! It's time to duel!

In other news, I love Lockhart's spell in the movie—it literally translates to fly up, so it's not a huge surprise that's what the snake did. Harry's opinion in the next paragraph is from an old episode of America's Funniest Home Videos—you know the ones with Tom Bergeron?

Racethom, thanks for the review! A little bit—and looking up some reconstructions that is kind of how I picture him. Mostly it started with Petrie with some Woodstock added in the mix, so that's kind of either a happy accident or subconscious referencing—but it works. :D

Gouravsilentreader, thanks for the review! Thank you, I'm glad you like it, and I hope to update soon as well!

Harry Potter © JK Rowling

No further attacks occurred the next few weeks, which made Harry question the necessity of the Polyjuice Potion—but they were committed, they were moving forward with this no matter what.

Hermione was taking point on the potion, Harry assisting, Snips sitting on his head and supervising everything (and stopping them at critical points when the risk arose), Ron with them and offering emotional support. On this front, at least, everything was going smoothly.

In the rest of the castle, not so much.

People were gathering in groups and gossiping in whispered tones, which in and of itself was not noteworthy—people gossiped all the time. What made him notice these particular times was when they glanced at him, although he couldn't fathom why.

"There's a rumor going 'round that you're the Heir of Slytherin," Ross Ambrose told him at the next Slug Club when Harry asked if he had heard anything. "Utter rubbish, in my opinion, even if it does reduce the looks we've been getting—I mean, you're in Gryffindor."

Harry nodded—stopped when something occurred to him. "Um…well…I was almost in Slytherin."

Ross—and Ernie MacMillan, who was in the seat on Ross's other side—stopped, stared at him.

"How do you almost be in Slytherin?" Ernie asked.

"Well, the Sorting Hat said I'd be good in there, but I uh, I didn't really want to, you see…."

"Should I be offended?" Ross asked.

"Well, to be fair—I mean I'm not sure how well you know Malfoy—"

"Say no more," Ross said, holding a hand up and going back to his chips.

The next thing of note was a post on the boards announcing the start of a dueling club, which was something Harry would much rather focus on than potions and rumors.

This was a shared sentiment, as it seemed that most of the school was crowded into the Great Hall on Saturday.

"I wonder who's going to be teaching it," Ron said, better able to see above the crowd than Harry or Hermione. "I heard Flitwick used to duel—just so long as it's not—oh no…."

Harry grimaced in agreement at the sight of Professor Lockhart stepping up onto the raised stage in place of the High Table, Professor Flitwick following.

"Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me? Good good!" Professor Lockhart said, smiling at them. "Now, with all the fuss circulating about the castle—" ("Like we're all bothered over nothing," Ron muttered) "Professor Flitwick and I have organized this little dueling club for those who want to learn how to better defend themselves! Don't worry—I'll make sure you still have a Charms teacher by the end!"

Professor Flitwick was smiling and nodding, but it was the sort of smiling and nodding that didn't match up to what the person was thinking currently—at this point, Harry had the feeling they should be more concerned about not having a Defense teacher by the end of the club.

"Now today we're going to be covering the Disarming Charm!" Professor Flitwick announced, also smiling at the students—a more sincere smile than the one he gave Lockhart. "A wizard's wand is his weapon—take away the wand, and you have effectively stopped your opponent."

"Most of the time," Lockhart said, looking like he was warming up for one of his stories.

"Yes, most of the time," Flitwick said, cutting him off before he could get started. "There are instances of wizards who can easily do wandless magic, but that is very advanced and most of you will probably not be going up against such a character. Thus, the Disarming Charm is a simple but effective spell that will work about ninety-five percent of the time."

"And to demonstrate, we will also be showing you how to conduct yourself in a duel!" Lockhart announced. "First—face your opponent—bow, nice and deep—then turn, pace away—turn again, wand at the ready—now!"

"Expelliarmus!" Flitwick said, before Lockhart could bring his wand down—Lockhart went flying, as did his wand, which resulted in a clean split on audience opinion.

"Do you think he's all right?" Hermione asked, in the first group.

"Who cares?" Harry and Ron asked, applauding and cementing themselves in the second group.

"Ah—yes—has anyone got my wand? Thank you Perkins," Lockhart said, getting back up to the stage. "Good show, Filius—although I could have stopped it—"

"With a Shield Charm, which we can cover next week," Flitwick said, still with that bland smile.

"Ah yes—yes yes, capital idea—now! Everyone in pairs, practice what we just showed you—disarm only!"

Hermione tugged on Harry and Ron's sleeves. "Now's our chance to get the hairs we need from the Slytherins!" she told them. "Pair up with Crabbe and Goyle—I'll see if I can't get Bulstrode."

"Wait," Harry said. "We'll be like…ten feet from each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Bold of you to assume they'll play fair."

Which was an unfortunate truth where Malfoy's gang was concerned.

Harry yelped at getting jerked back—ah, so his thoughts had the unfortunate side effect of summoning the person involved.

"You and me, Potter," Malfoy spat. "Right now."

"Uh," Harry noised, eyes flicking to Crabbe and Goyle.

"What, not scared, are you?"

Harry's attention immediately snapped back to Malfoy. "You. Wish."

Ron nodded, sized up Crabbe and Goyle, settled on Crabbe. "Let's you and me fight."

"Boys," Hermione muttered, slipping off in search of her target.

Resolving that they'd figure out a way to get to Goyle later, Harry marched with Malfoy to the markers on the floor as everyone separated to their own duels. Match poses, tilt just enough to qualify as a bow—Harry's back was prickling as he marched away—

Self-preservation and a warning chirp from Snips had him ducking as he spun around, dodging the stinging hex Malfoy aimed at him—which hit Terrence Redley from Ravenclaw instead, which prompted him to spin around—

"Disarm—I said disarm only!" Lockhart hollered.

Too late—those who had actually listened were quickly scattering to the walls as those who didn't devolved into a fight—Harry shot Flipendo back at Draco, who countered with a tickling hex—got hit by a jelly-legs jinx—

Professor Flitwick was over and cancelling the spells.

"Five points from each of you, boys," he announced. "Now, try that again, and disarm only."

Harry nodded, face flushing—Draco was red too as Flitwick told them to bow more deeply come now Mr. Malfoy I know you can do better than that—pace away—

Harry still ducked when he spun around, but he shot a disarming spell at Malfoy this time—and because he did, Malfoy's spell went over his head.

"Very good, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick said brightly. "Mr. Malfoy, on your next attempt aim for the body, it makes for a larger target and still gets the job done. Mr. Potter, try extending a leg when you duck like that, as you were you make it difficult to dodge a second spell…."

Professor Flitwick stood there watching their next several attempts, giving pointers or complimenting where proper, finally drifted away to help the next pair of duelists.

As soon as he did so Harry and Malfoy locked eyes, Malfoy's eyes darting to Flitwick repeatedly—calculating how far away he needed to be for them to resume their first duel. Harry's arm stiffened, ready to disarm him—

Malfoy was a hair faster. "Serpensortia!"

Harry dove away, not recognizing the spell—

Rolled up from his tumble to come face to face with a snake.

"Ah!" he squeaked, scuttling backwards—the snake slithered after him.

"What did we say about disarming spells only!?" Flitwick called, hustling over.

"I'll handle it, Filius!" Lockhart called—pointed his wand at the snake. "Volare acente!"

"No wait—"

Harry's opinion of Lockhart's spell was that it wasn't designed to get rid of the snake, per se, just make it the neighbor's problem.

The snake was understandably upset at being thrown up about fifty feet into the air and then landing hard on the flagstones—it was hissing and spitting, angry and wanting a target—

Shot right at Justin Fitch-Fletchley.

"No wait!" Harry yelped, hand outstretched like he could stop it so far away. "STOP!"

To everyone's surprise, the snake did indeed screech to a halt—and spun around to look at him with an expression that smacked of seriously?

And then the snake was gone, banished properly by Professor Flitwick, who looked at Harry with concern. Actually, everyone was.

"Uh," Harry noised—

Was bodily hauled out of there by Ron, Hermione hot on their heels.

"Wait—wait, where are we going?" Harry asked, the Great Hall exploding with voices behind them.

Ron didn't answer until they were in an empty classroom.

"You're a parslemouth!"

Harry blinked, not quite sure if he was being insulted or not. "I'm a what?"

"Parslemouth!" Ron repeated, throwing his hands up. "You can talk to snakes!"

"Oh," Harry noised. "Okay…."

"What do you mean 'okay' HARRY—"

"I mean it's not like it's a surprise!" Harry protested. "I talked to a boa constrictor at the zoo once! I bet loads of wizards can do it!"

"You talked—I can't Hermione talk to him."

Hermione waved Ron off as he paced away, a hand to his head. "Being a parsletongue is a rare gift Harry—and, um, not one associated with good wizards."

Harry felt some of the blood drain from his face. "Uh…h-how bad is…."

"You-Know-Who. Salazar Slytherin—it's why the house symbol is a snake."

"And then—" Ron said, pacing back to them. "And then you do that right in front of the whole school! Everyone's going to think you're like his great-great grandkid or something!"

"But I stopped the snake from attacking Justin!" Harry protested. "That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

"Is that what you told it?" Ron asked. "All I heard was a bunch of hissing."

"It kind of sounded like you were egging it on," Hermione said gingerly. "And with everything going on…."

Harry barely registered Snips patting his cheek. "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

Ron put a hand on his shoulder, nodded sagely. "Yes."

Ron was not exaggerating—by Sunday breakfast, everyone knew that one Harry Potter was a parseltongue. By Sunday lunch, everyone had an opinion on it.

By Monday morning, Harry was wondering on the efficacy of wearing his Invisibility cloak everywhere.

It didn't help that literally everyone was side-eyeing him—even Lockhart had cooled off considerably. And if the Quidditch team talked about him, it was usually to refer to him as the seeker. And let's not get started on how the other students were treating him.

So he wasn't entirely surprised when Fergus pinned him (not physically, fortunately) in the hall one day, followed by Fred and George.

"I'm having a need to get to the bottom of the rumors circulating," Fergus told him. "What's this I hear about you being the Heir of Slytherin?"

"I'm not," Harry insisted. "I'm not even in Slytherin."

"Ah, but I heard from Ross you almost were—day after dueling club he says no wonder the hat wanted to put him in Slytherin."

"Ah, but think about it," Fred said, a hand up—Harry had been hoping they were hovering around to keep Fergus from possibly doing something untoward. "If the Heir of Slytherin were in Slytherin, it would be too obvious."

"And the best way to avoid suspicion would to be in another house," George added.

"And not just any house—"

"The house Slytherins despise above all."

"A double-reverse—well-played, Harry, very cunning."

"That is, actually," Fergus agreed.

"But I'm not the Heir of Slytherin," Harry protested.

"Good Harry, keep insisting on innocence—that's key to pulling off a good scheme," Fred said, giving him a thumbs-up.

"And if you let anyone else in on it, make sure you've all got your stories straight," George added. "I mean it's all right for us, being quintuplets we've got that innate sense of what the others are doing, but still."

"Very true," Fergus agreed, handing Harry a small bag. "So this is for you—"

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Your cut—I might be selling charms and such protecting people from you. Also, here's a list, if you could avoid these people that'd be great—really sell it. Thanks Harry!"

"We really need to get Donald talking to that man," Fred said.

"Yes," George agreed. "Possibly to hire him—he's going places." Noticed Harry's expression. "Oh come off it, Harry—we don't think you're really the heir."

"And if you keep taking it so seriously you're just going to make yourself sick."

"Hence us doing our best to get your mind off of things—"

"And view this as the joke it really is."

That would explain why they kept making a point to run in front of him in the halls going make way for the Heir of Slytherin!

"I do want to know more about this boa constrictor you chatted up though," George added.

"You know how you talk to things to get your mind off of something else?" Harry asked. "It was like that—I just wasn't expecting it to talk back."

"Yes, that always is a shock."

"It is," Fred said, before looking at the nearby vase. "Don't you agree?"

"It's why myself and the podium I'm sitting on has a permanent sticking charm now," the vase responded.

Reflecting on it, Harry wasn't entirely certain why a talking vase surprised him. After all, it was Hogwarts.