Disclaimer: This chapter and the story it is a part of it was not written in the hopes of profiting from its sale or distribution. At current I have never and have no plans in the future of receiving monetary compensation for this work. And I certainly do not own Harry Potter or any other related titles.

Acknowledgement: Parts of this chapter and indeed all chapters in this story were lifted word from word from the Harry Potter series. These parts are small segments only and are there to provide context to my own changes to the plot. All credit for these segments go to JKR, who deserves unmitigated praise for being one of the finest authors of our time.

Beta: This will be the first chapter that's had the benefit of a beta reader, so special thanks go out to Snakefang93 for all his contributions on the direction of the story.

A True Slytherin Book II, Chapter II:

Or Harry Potter and The Serpent Guard

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly' and "looking happy."

Filch was far from the only one obsessed with the mystery. A week after the attack Neville dropped an enormous flower pot just as the bell rang to dismiss them from Herbology. Harry as his partner was forced to stay behind and help clean up. Truthfully Harry didn't mind as the Neville was probably the only reason Harry was getting an E in the class he was allowed to be clumsy sometimes.

"Thanks," Neville said as Harry helped him sweep the potting soil into a dust bin.

"No problem mate," Harry replied as Sprout walked off to tend to an ailing bush in a different greenhouse.

"People are talking," Neville said as soon as he was sure they were alone.

"People tend to do that," Harry shrugged completely missing the implications of what Neville had just said.

"No, Harry they're talking about you."

"What do you mean?"

"They're saying you're the Heir," Neville whispered glancing over his shoulder.

"Then they're bonkers," Harry tried to keep a brave face but he felt a chill creep up his spine. "I don't hate muggleborns."

"Listen I know that Harry, but not everyone else does. And when you look at the evidence…"

"What are you trying to say?" Harry voice rose dangerously.

"I'm trying to say that someone who doesn't know you might jump to the wrong conclusions. I mean look at the facts, you don't really have any muggleborn friends do you?"

"Well no, but it's not like there are a whole lot of muggleborns in Slytherin."

"Point taken, but that's another nail in the coffin for you Harry, you're probably the most recognizable Slytherin in Hogwarts."

"Not all Slytherins are evil."

"No, but it's not like the Heir of Slytherin is going to be in Gryffindor is it? And the whole school knows that you stood up for Malfoy after Ron cursed him."

"I did what I had to do, and Ron's already forgotten about the whole thing." Then Harry suddenly remembered something he should've thought of a lot sooner. "Ron! He was with me the entire time, they have to know I couldn't have done it."

"I know that Harry, and Ron's already said as much, but a lot of people think that if your capable of doing that to Mrs. Norris then messing with Ron's head would be child's play in comparison."

"I'm just a second year," Harry protested. "There's no way I could even attempt that sort of magic.

"You defeated You-Know-Who when you were a baby, the normal rules clearly don't apply to you."

"But I'm a half-blood and everyone knows it!" harry exclaimed. "It's not like I could become a blood purist even if I wanted to."

"My Gran always used to tell me about the Death Eaters they caught after the war, a lot of 'em had muggles in the woodpile if you catch my drift."

"Well let them think what they want to then," Harry said with a lot more confidence then he felt. He might've been an outcast in the muggle world but he was vaguely popular at Hogwarts and he liked it that way.

"Harry if it was just people talking then I wouldn't have even brought it up… It's just that if this whole thing keeps up, I'm scared some idiot is going to try and become the one who caught the heir…"

("A truly wise man will stamp out a conflict before it begins."- Professor Phineas Nigellus Black)

Harry didn't know exactly how many people believed he was the Heir but after listening to Neville he could see how he would be a suspect. That in mind he thought it might be best to befriend one of the muggleborn students. Even to his own mind the idea of making friends with someone solely so others wouldn't suspect him seemed foolish, but he couldn't help but remember Neville's parting words.

His opportunity came later in the month when he found Hermione sitting at her usual table in the library pouring over a tome that seemed to be bigger than her. Hermione probably wouldn't have been Harry's first choice, but he knew that both Tracey and Neville thought highly of her. That and although he hadn't set out to exclude muggleborns from his friend group he was rapidly realizing that he didn't really know any.

"Hey Hermione… You don't happen to remember the homework assignment from
Potions do you?" Harry said lamely searching for an excuse to talk to her.

"Harry!" she squeaked her eyes going as wide as she discreetly moved the large book to cover up the parchment she had been scribbling on.

"You ok, Granger?"

He had rarely spoken to Hermione in the past but on the few occasions he had, she hadn't acted like this.

"J-Just fine," she squeaked franticly gathering her papers and books. "You know actually I think, I need to run to the loo."

Throwing the last of the books into her bag she began to walk away at a clipped pace. That was when harry noticed the bit of parchment she had been scribbling on when he arrived was still laying on the table.

"Wait Hermione, you forgot this," Harry called out before he could stop himself. As he reached for the paper to hand it back to her something odd struck him. The paper was very clearly a family tree and at first he didn't think much of it, but as he glanced closer he saw the name Potter. Then it dawned upon this was not a family tree, it was his family tree.

There at the bottom was his name. His Mother's name simply had Muggleborn written next to it. His father's however had the name of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black written upon it. Each with two names up through what must have been ten generations. At the very top a man named Ademar Potter was shown as marrying an Adela Peverell.

"T-thank you Harry," Hermione stuttered, her hand firmly prying the parchment from his grasp, before she made an exit, at a pace barely slower than an all-out run.

Harry for his part could only stare after her too stunned to speak. He had known that other suspected him of being the Heir but the thought that someone was actually trying to prove it was frightening.

He was broken out of his reverie by the the sound of cracking knuckles. He whirled around to see a couple older Gryffindors boys with looks of pure loathing on their faces. They had probably seen the whole thing. Harry didn't hang around to find out.

("Of course even the best laid plans often backfire terribly."-Professor Phineas Nigellus Black)

Later that day Harry found his friends sitting in an empty corner of the Slytherin Common Room and told them what had happened.

"I don't understand what Granger could've possibly thought she'd find in a genealogy book," Blaise said in disgust. "If it was that easy to prove who the heir was Dumbledore would've done it by now."

"A lot of the times smart people just forget other people are smart too," Harry replied his voice a lot calmer then he was.

"I just want to tear that little bitch's eyes out," Tracey said fingering her wand dangerously. Any feelings of friendship she might've felt towards Hermione had apparently been forgotten in favor of protecting Harry.

"You don't think she found anything do you?" Harry asked quietly.

"There's nothing to find!" Tracey snapped angrily, "you're not the heir."

"How far back did you say she got?" Blaise asked leaning forward.

"The 15th Century, Peverell or something I think."

"Well then yes," Blaise answered carefully. "She probably thinks she found something."

"What!?" Tracey snapped.

"Well honestly Wizarding genealogy is more of a fairy tale than anything else," Blaise explained. "You all know how important ancestry is to a lot of people with money, well if you didn't have enough wizards in your family tree, or if you just wanted to pretend you were the heir of someone famous you just forged in a couple of connections here and there."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked leaning in closer.

"The Peverells were one of the oldest families in Britain before they died out," Blaise continued. "If I remember right they even gave Hogwarts a loan when it was first starting out. And since the male line died out in the 16th Century they've been one of the more popular families to claim a connection to."

"What does that have to do with Harry being the Heir?"

"Well the reason people always claim to be descended from them is because legend holds that when Salazar left Hogwarts Cadmus Peverell granted him lands and titles…. And well Cadmus's wife was famed for her beauty… and you guys can fill in the rest…" Blaise finished lamely.

"But won't Hermione notice that everyone claims to be descended from them?" harry asked. He was thinking a lot of uncharitable thoughts about the bushy haired girl but even he couldn't doubt she was smart.

"Well all that stuff about families faking their linage isn't written down anywhere. After all the sort of people who own publishing houses were exactly the sort of people who faked their own lineage," Blaise answered after some thought. "I mean the only reason I know about it, is because my family did it too."

"It's not like Hermione has many pureblood friends," Tracey said uncertainly.

"Or friends at all," Harry muttered under his breath.

"And even if she did know it… well it's not proof that you are descended from Slytherin, but it certainly doesn't help the case that you're not," Blaise finished carefully.

"Just great," Harry muttered.

("A damn silly games, played by damn silly men." Madame Pomfrey)

The day of the first Quidditch match of the season was almost as gloomy as Harry was. He didn't quite feel like watching Malfoy catch the Snitch from the sidelines, and he was sure that Malfoy would catch the snitch. He might've thought that he was the better seeker but even he had to admit that Malfoy was passably good. The Gryffindor seeker on the other hand was rumored to play with all the finesse and grace of a legally blind mountain troll.

"I hope you're ready to fly Potter!" Marcus snapped when harry walked into the changing room.

"What?" Harry asked dumly. As a reserve the chances he would see any flight time were next to zero.

"Apparently Harrison ate something that disagreed with him," Marcus's lip curled in disgust. "You'll be taking his place."

"Poor sod hasn't stopped puking all night," Pucey the other chaser told Harry once Marcus was out of earshot.

"All right lads, no point in denying it without Harrison, are chasers are going to be pretty weak," Marcus said to start the meeting. "Potter you're a good flier but not good enough to make a first string chaser and you haven't trained enough with me and Pucey to fit into our patterns. Just keep your head on and don't screw up."

"Bletchly," Marcus said to the keeper. "The Gryffindors are going to be coming strong and fast, we're counting on you to keep the score down."

"Beaters, I want you to knock one of their chasers out as soon as possible."

"And Malfoy, for Merlin's sake catch the damn snitch early!"

As they walked out onto the pitch, the roar of noise greeting them was primarily boos. Nothing new with that Slytherin had been the most hated house for quite a few centuries. Even so the their housemates in the stands made their cheers known. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Johnson from Gryffindor got the Qauffle first; Marcus took off after her while Harry shadowed the youngest Gryffindor chaser, Katie Bell.

Before Harry knew it Pucey intercepted a pass from Johnson to Spinnet and tore off in towards the Gryffindor goal posts.

Harry with his smaller frame and newer broom easily outpaced Bell as he tore off after Pucey.

Flint wasn't so lucky, unlike most chasers he relayed on power not speed. Despite a faster broom Johnson managed to keep him in check.

Pucey seeing Harry open threw the Quaffle in his direction, after months of practice Harry caught it without a second thought. His way towards the goals was clear, with just Wood standing between him and the first score of his career. The older boy however was no slouch and Harry knew it. He feinted right but at the last second rolled his broom to the side and made to throw for the leftmost hoop. He cocked his arm back to throw knowing that there was no way Wood would be able to block in time.

WHAM!

It took all of Harry's strength to stay on the broom as the bludger impacted from behind. It took him only a second to recover but that second was more than enough for Bell to come from behind and knock the Quaffle from his grasp.

"Sorry 'bout that mate," One of the Slytherin beaters called as he chased after the Quaffle.

Harry however was already zooming in pursuit of Bell. Before he could catch up to her she passed to Spinnet. And Harry wasn't quite sure what happened next as he heard the telltale whistle of the bludger behind him.

Without time to think he reacted on instinct and rolled his broom over upside down. It was a very near miss and he could feel the wind of its passage.

He rolled back up in time to see Flint steal the Quaffle and 'accidently,' shove Johnson off course while he was at it.

Harry reacted fast and took off towards the Gryffindor end Bell in hot pursuit. Then suddenly he saw a brown blur to his left. Knowing that it must be a bludger he climbed and avoided it so narrowly that he felt the rustle of its passage on the back of his neck.

"Close one, Potter!" said Philips, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Gryffindor. Harry saw Philips give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Johnson, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and Philips managed to hit it hard toward Spinnet. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.

Harry with a sinking feeling in his chest put on a burst of speed towards the other side of the pitch and sure enough the Bludger took off after him.

Rufus King, the other beater, was waiting for the Bludger at the far end. Harry ducked as King swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"That'll fix it!" King yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger changed course and pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He'd practically abandoned any attempt to do his actual job and was instead merely running away from the Bludger. King had stayed by his side, but despite the large boy's best efforts the mad Bludger continued its attack. Finally noticing that he was down a chaser Flint called a timeout.

"Potter! What the hell is going on out there?" Marcus demanded as the team went into a huddle on the sidelines.

"It's not his fault," King spoke up before Harry could. "Something's off with that damn Bludger it hasn't left him alone all game."

"The Gryffindors must have tampered with it," Philips put in.

"They had the balls for practice last," added Pucey. "And on top of that I've known Harrison for four years and he's never been sick before today."

"That's not like the Gryffindors at all," Bletchly answered in disbelief.

"If they think he's the heir…" Philips began before trailing off. It was the first time to Harry's knowledge that anyone in Slytherin had even mentioned the rumors.

"Oh come of it, there's no way Scarhead here is the Heir of Slytherin," Malfoy said with a sneer of contempt.

"You know that, I know that, but Gryffindors think some stupid things," Pucey replied.

"Damn it all to hell!" Flint said kicking a water bucket in disgust.

"Either way we can't send Potter back out there, he'll be slaughtered before the game's over with," King ventured cautiously.

"We have to send Potter out, if he won't play then we forfeit," Pucey said although he looked less then pleased with the idea. "The only way out is injury, you lot know that."

"Call for an inquiry then!" Philips argued. "Anyone with two eyes can see that the Bludger's been tampered with."

"If we walk away now we lose," Harry answered with grim determination. "I'll play."

"Are you sure," Marcus said studying Harry closely. "I can't let King keep defending you, we'll lose the game that way too."

"I understand," Harry said with more bravery then he knew he possessed.

"Good man."

Harry might've been imagining it, but he couldn't help but think that Flint's eyes betrayed a certain amount of respect that hadn't been there before.

("Man knows no greater fool than this: the man who would lay down one's life for a Quidditch Game." Madame Pomfrey)

The next Harry knew he was waking up to a splitting headache.

"What happened?" he moaned to no one in particular.

"You went and split your fool head open," came the annoyed yet still matronly voice of Madame Pomfrey. "Drink this," she continued forcing a phial of foul tasting gunk down his throat.

"Best bit of flying I've ever seen though," said Blaise's cheerful voice from his side.

"Too bad you won't get a scar," Tracey put in. 'That would've been fetching, don't you think?"

"There's something seriously wrong with you," Blaise said looking at the girl in disgust.

"Did we win?" Harry asked eagerly as the potion began to take hold.

"By ten points after four hours," Tracey answered sounding almost as disgusted as Blaise had been.

"What happened to me anyways?"

"Well after you came back out you were doing quite alright actually," Tracey began.

"Then when you weren't looking one of the Weasley twins sent another Bludger after you and that was pretty much it." Blaise finished.

"I don't remember any of it," Harry said confused.

"Dad says that happens with head injuries."

It took Harry a second to remember that Tracey's father was a healer.

"I still can't believe it took Malfoy that long to catch the snitch," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Another half hour and it would've been the longest game since 1983," Tracey said with an equally scornful look.

"Flint wasn't happy, I take it?"

But before his friends could answer his question Madame Pomfrey returned to shoo them out. "We'll be keeping you overnight Mr. Potter, standard procedure with head injuries like yours."

And just like that Harry was left alone with nothing but the dull pain in his head to keep him company.

Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: His head was now throbbing. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. Then he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

"Get off!" he said loudly, and then, "Dobby!"

The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby?"

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away. "What're you doing here?" he said.

"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir…"

"If you don't tell me what's going on in the next ten seconds you'll have an even worse one!" Harry snapped as a lance of pain shot through his skull.

"Dobby is quite used to threats sir, he receives them regularly from his master," he said with said eyes. "If you will excuse Dobby for saying this his Master is far better at it then Harry Potter."

He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore; looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. Suddenly Dobby's head jerked back up.

"Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make —"

"Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"

"Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life is better for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end. And now, at

Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let

Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more."

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, crosseyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…"

"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"

He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "But I'm not

Muggleborn, how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark.

"Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen, go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous-"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"

"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!" Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and the elf was gone. Harry slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.

Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the hospital wing wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor

McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "One of the prefects found her in a bathroom by the library."

"The poor girl was nearly hysterical we left her with Professor Flitwick," added McGonagall. "She wouldn't stop babbling about how she found her just staring into the mirror."

Slowly and cautiously Harry raised his head to look at the victim, only to recoil in shock when he recognized the mane of bushy brown hair.

"Petrified?" asked Pomfrey.

"Undoubtedly," answered Dumbledore.

"So the Chamber is really open then?" Asked McGonagall. "Who could've done such a thing, I don't think even the worst of my students are capable of it."

"The question Minerva, is not who, but how," Dumbledore finished gravely.

"What's that in her pocket?" asked Pomfrey.

Dumbledore reached in and withdrew a parchment Harry had seen once before. "It appears Miss Granger had her own theory, on the culprit," he said before passing the paper to McGonagall.

"Ludicrous!" McGonagall exclaimed once she realized what the paper was. "The boy couldn't harm a fly."

"And he's been here all night," Pomfrey put in. "I can vouch for that."

Harry quickly pretended to be sleeping as all eyes swung in his direction.

"I quite agree Mr. Potter is not the culprit," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "But do keep a closer eye on him Minerva I doubt Miss Granger was the only one to come to this conclusion and I don't want anyone taking rash action."

It was no secret among Gryffindors that Hermione had been researching Harry's history, and before long the whole school knew. Added onto the Bludger incident which everyone was sure the Gryffindors were behind the common theory was that Hermione's attack had been both for revenge and to cover his tracks.

Everywhere Harry went he attracted knowing looks and more than a little fear. That is except in Slytherin, where he being the Heir was considered to be the greatest joke in recent memory. Harry after all was hardly a dark wizard and those who came into daily contact with him found the whole idea ridiculous. Malfoy if anything seemed almost offended that anyone could think Harry was behind the attacks.

"He just wants people to think he's the one doing all of it," Blaise said with a shrug. "I know he'd like to if he ever got the chance."

"No one's stupid enough to think Malfoy's the heir, I mean he spends more time in the mirror each morning then I do!" Tracey exclaimed.

"My German Shepherd spends more time in front of the mirror then you do," Blaise said before Tracey punched him in his arm.

("The most infuriating part of being a scoundrel is no one believes you on the rare occasion when you really are innocent,"- Professor Phineas Nigellus Black)

Dear Harry,

I confess to be horrified by the turn of events you detailed to me in your last letter. I was there the last time the Chamber was opened. Poor Myrtle deserved so much more from life then to be killed in that manner. And I confess I've always had my doubts about the man they eventually charged with the crime. If that was the Heir of Slytherin I'd eat my loafer.

But enough of this, whatever happened fifty years ago is now ancient history, it could hardly be the same culprit. Let us merely hope that things progress no further, last time they were on the verge of closing the school if you can believe it. Over 1,000 years of history and tradition ended on the account of one madman, the whole affair still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. There is another facet of your letter I can't help but take notice of. These clearly ridiculous rumors that you had something to do with the attacks.

I can already see from the tone of your letter that the opinions of those foolish schoolchildren have only poisoned your mind more completely against fame. That my dear boy is understandable, but I hope you'll forgive me for saying that it is also foolish. At this point in your life fame is not something which you can simply choose to walk away from. You will always be famous, and there will always be scandalous rumors about you.

I know, for one so young this, must be a terrifying concept it is however the truth. The sooner you come to embrace your fame the sooner you can began to manage these attacks. People fear the unknown Harry, and that is what you are, unknown. Your politics, your personality, even your history is a complete mystery to many of your fellow students. Remove the mystery and the next time you find yourself at the wrong end of a terrible rumor you will find substantially less people believe it.

Your Friend,

H. Slughorn.

("My wand is a little… overexcited,"- Professor Gilderoy Lockhart)

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops, my wand is a little overexcited…"

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

Harry couldn't help but wonder how exactly he had gotten himself in this situation. He hadn't even wanted to join the dueling club, after all anyone who wasn't terrified of him was out for his blood instead. But Tracey had somehow talked him into it, and although he had planned to just remain in the back Lockhart had immediately grabbed hold of him and put him on the stage.

"Three — two — one — go!" Lockhart shouted.

"Flipendo!" Harry cried out vainly hoping that the knockback jinx would distract Malfoy long enough for harry to punch him or something.

"Now Harry, you're supposed to be blocking," Lockhart interrupted. "It's poor sport to-,"

But no one least of all Malfoy was listening to him.

"Serpensortia!" Malfoy yelled as a giant black snake shot out of his wand.

The whole world seemed to stop as the snake rose from the floor hissing in anger. It stopped and focused its eyes right at Harry.

"Hold on Potter," Snape said airly, "I'll get rid of it."

"Allow me!" Lockhart interrupted cheerfully, before anyone could stop him he waved his wand and with a bang the snake was propelled into the air. Enraged the snake hissed fiercely and the crowd began to stampede away which of course did nothing to calm the snake.

Enraged the snake sought out the first available person to strike out at, Colin Creevy. The snake reared up, its fangs jutting out poised to strike.

Harry would never know what caused him to act, but act he did. Striding forward as if he hadn't a fear in the world he yelled "stop!"

Miraculously the snake did turning to look at Harry curiously.

"Don't attack any of the students," Harry said, this time slightly less sure of himself.

The snake bobbed its head as if it understood him and then bent it slightly to the side as if to observe him.

Harry looked to Colin expecting to see relief on his face, but instead there was only a pale white look to it, and the boy refused to meet his eye.

` Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. The look in the Professor's eyes was shrewd and calculating, it was a look harry had never seen directed at him before. It was then that he became aware of the ominous mutterings that were filling the Great Hall.

Suddenly Harry became aware of a tugging on his arm and before he knew it Blaise was leading him away with Tracey not far behind. To Harry's surprise the crowded hall seemed to part before him, almost as if everyone was to afraid to stop them.

His bodyguard however didn't say a word or for that matter stop walking until they were well away from the Great Hall and hidden away in an abandoned classroom.

"What the hell was that Harry!?" Blaise snapped the second the door was closed.

"What was what?" Harry asked in confusion.

"You're a parselmouth you idiot!" Tracey answered.

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it."

"The second time?" Blaise asked faintly.

"Well I met a rather nice Boa Constrictor once, and it told me it had never seen Brazil and before I knew it… Well it was free, whether or not it ever made it to Brazil I couldn't say."

"A Boa Constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Blaise repeated shell shocked.

"What's the big deal anyways?" Harry asked. "I mean Dumbledore can speak mermish can't he? I know being a parselmouth is rare, but it can't be as rare as all that."

"That's just it Harry, it is as rare as all that," Tracey said quietly. "There's only ever been one parselmouth in Britain, Salazar Slytherin."

"There was another one," Blaise said his voice still distant. "I heard once at one of my mum's parties that You-Know-Who was one."

"Oh well that's a relief," Tracey muttered sarcastically.

When the three Slytherins did eventually return to the Common Room, only silence greeted them. The younger years and indeed the majority of the older students only stared at Harry. Some were curios, some fearful, and more then a few were clearly star-struck. All the same none of them dared approach Harry or his friends.

Indeed when Harry entered the Dormitories even Malfoy retained a respectful distance. The nod he gave Harry wasn't friendly, but it was somehow…. Different…

("There's only ever been one parselmouth in Britain, Salazar Slytherin…"- Tracey Davis)

Harry awoke at some point in the night and he instantly knew something was wrong. There was hand on his shoulder and it was attached to someone far too big to be one of his roommates. He very nearly screamed, but he stopped when he recognized the bone white mask of the Order of the Serpent.

The figure whoever it was, put a finger over its mouth and gestured towards Harry's roommates.

Understanding that the figure wanted him to be quiet, Harry nodded.

Without saying anything the figure turned around and headed out the door, Harry in hot pursuit. They walked down the stairs of the Boy's Dormitories and through the common room. It must have been late in the night as there was no one there. To Harry's surprise the figure lead him out through the portrait hole and into the main part of the Dungeons.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked growing slightly worried.

"Not here." Was the only response the figure gave, his voice was masked somehow and sounded otherworldly.

Up they traveled soon they were out of the Dungeons and into Hogwarts proper. If the figure was fearful of wondering teachers he gave no sign of it, although they did skirt the Grand Staircase and instead used a less conspicuous one. They continued up until they reached the fifth Floor at which point the figure lead him to a portrait of a wood cutter who did nothing to acknowledge their existence.

"Brother Merlin," the figure said apparently addressing the portrait.

"What is the best cloak?" The Portrait asked as it chopped another log.

"Innocence my brother," the figure answered.

"You are worthy."

And with that the Portrait swung open. Harry followed the figure inside. The room on the other side of the portrait hole was large and dark. So dark in fact that it took Harry a second to make out the five figures waiting for them at the end of the room. The one which lead him to the chamber joined those other five and they formed a semicircle around Harry.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, questioning just what impulse had led him to follow a strange figure through the halls of Hogwarts while a homicidal manic was on the loose.

"We are the Fraternal Order of the Serpent," said the otherworldly voice of the figure who had led him there. "Nearly a millennia ago Salazar Slytherin himself charged us with defending his noble house from those who would seek to destroy it."

"That is the tale we tell the firsties," came a different voice which was also distorted by the mask. "But there is more to it than that."

"For as he trusted us with his House so did he trust us with his blood," Said yet another voice.

"We serve as the guides and guards of all true Heirs," came a different voice.

"There are those among us who say you are an Heir, and they would've have us pledge our allegiance so."

"But we have seen many usurpers, and so you must first proof yourself to us," finished the last.

"How?" Harry asked. Part of him was terrified by all of this, but no Slytherin ever ran from power and these figures certainly promised him power. Added onto that they might know something of the heir who was behind the attacks.

"We do not share our secrets with outsiders," came the voice of the one who led him here. "If you want to continue you must first take your oath as a Fellow of Our Order."

"Of course," Harry answered.

"On your belly."

After a second of hesitation Harry followed the instructions and knelt down before laying flat on his stomach.

"You come to us now seeking our fellowship?" A Voice asked once Harry had followed the instructions.

"I do," Harry answered unsure of himself.

"The virtues of Slytherin House are Cunning, Ambition, and Resourcefulness. A true Slytherin will go to any means to achieve his ends. A true Slytherin thinks nothing of lying, cheating, or stealing if it serves his purpose, this is as it should be," said a voice to Harry's left.

"But what does it say of a man who would lie to his friends, cheat his servants, and steal from his brothers?" came a voice from Harry's right.

"There must be honor among us, even if we show none to our foes," said the one who had lead Harry to this chamber, he was the one directly in front of Harry. "Do you pledge to never lie to a Brother?"

"I swear it," Harry answered still on his belly.

"Do you pledge never to cheat a Brother?"

"I swear it."

"Do you pledge never to steal from a Brother?"

"I swear it."

"Very well, you are a man of honor, and none among us doubt it."

"But honor is not enough," said the voice to Harry's left. "For if nothing unites our brotherhood, then so must everything divide it."

"There is a mission and a purpose," came the voice from Harry's right. "It is what binds us what unites us under a common goal."

"Our mission is threefold," came the voice of Harry's guide. "Do you Harry Potter, swear upon your honor to at all times embody good Slytherin values and to at all time stand ready to defend Slytherin House?"

"Upon my Honor I swear it," Harry answered still on his belly.

"Do you swear upon your honor to guide and protect all Slytherins, especially those who have just entered the fold, so that they may one day take your place as a guardian of our values?"

"Upon my Honor I swear it."

"Do you swear to seek out and protect all true Heirs of Slytherin? For as Salazar gave us his all, we are called upon to give our all to his true descendants. Do you swear this?"

"Upon my Honor I swear it."

` "Rise to your knees, for you have satisfied us," the voice concluded.

And with that two of the Brotherhood came from Harry's left and right and dragged him from his belly to his knees. Next they draped a dark cloak, identical to the ones they wore, over him.

Then his guide spoke again.

"We have found you worthy, but our master was cautious one and so there is one final pledge."

At that one of the Order brought out a highly decorated wooden case, from which Harry's guide pulled out an ornate and ancient looking walking stick.

"This is the Cane of Salazar Slytherin," Said Harry's guide as he held the cane towards Harry. "It supported his body as our brotherhood supports his ideals. It was enchanted by the first Heir which we guided, Alfred Peverall, son of Salazar. Any pledge spoken while holding this Cane has all the weight and force of an Unbreakable Vow…. Take it now and swear our final pledge."

His hands shaking Harry reached out and took the cane. Instantly he felt as if a powerful wave had washed over him, and he knew that his guide had made no idle boast.

"Do you Harry Potter, swear to at all times uphold the secrecy of this order? Do you swear never to take from this place those sacred items which we have guarded through the centuries? Do you swear upon your life and magic never to speak what the greatest of the four would keep unspoken? Do you swear upon your life and magic to ensure that others do not do the same?"

"I swear upon my life and my magic," Harry felt yet another wave of power wash over him and he knew he was bound to his word.

"Rise Brother," the guide said.

Before Harry could stand on his own two of the brotherhood advanced grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him to his feet. Before he quite had a chance to steady himself the one on his right slipped a mask onto his face. To any observer he was now identical to all the others of the order… well he was quite a bit shorter, but other than that.

"You are now one of us," said Harry's guide. "But to be proven the Heir there is another test."

"Hold on-," Harry began only to be cut off.

"No." Harry's guide responded simply. "We have accepted you into our fold because you might be the Heir. If you fail to pass this test we will throw you from our presence as if this night never happened. So it's best if we don't tell you more than necessary. Come this way."

The order formed up on either side of Harry and with a unified murmur of "Lumos," Their wands lit the way as the group marched from one side of the chamber to an imposing double door on the other end. The door was joined at the center by a locking mechanism in the shape of a King Cobra.

"Behind this door lays your final test, first however, you must open it."

Harry for his part nervously approached. The doors which showed no sign of budging.

"Here goes nothing," Harry murmured to himself. He reached up grasping the handles with both hands and pulled with all his might….

The door did not budge.

He tried again this time straining with the effort. Distantly he heard one of the order cough nervously.

"Speak you idiot," a voice hissed.

Harry jumped in surprise.

"Something the matter Potter?" One of the brotherhood called mockingly.

"Speak your name to me if you're an heir," with a start Harry realized that it was the Cobra lock that was speaking to him. "If you're not going to speak I'm going back to sleep… bloody mortals interrupting my nap over nothing."

"I'm Harry Potter?" Harry said unsure of himself.

"Not in that language you fool!" the lock hissed.

"Yes, yes we're quite aware of that," another one of the brotherhood called out.

"Perhaps we should end this," Started the one who had brought Harry to this place.

But Harry had suddenly realized what was required of him. 'Think snake,' Harry thought to himself.

"I am Harry Potter!" He heard the gasps of surprise from the order but he did not register them.

"Finally!" The lock hissed as Harry heard a faint click from the door.

Harry reached out and flung the doors open. He couldn't help but feel a Cheshire cat grin sporead across his face as he heard the gasps of the order.

"What now?" He said confidently turning back to his guide.

"The door is merely the first part of this test." If Harry's feats surprised the man behind the mask he gave no indication of it. "Go into the chambers and return with the Ring of Slytherin. If you do this we will know you as the Heir… and our Lord."

"You're not coming with me?" Harry asked as he stared into the blackness of the chamber.

"It's not our place." Harry's guide responded simply.

\

WHAM!

Before Harry had time to react the door slammed firmly closed behind him.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he whirled around and tried to tug the door open, but it of course refused to budge.

"How interesting," came a hoarse voice from the corner of the room.

Harry felt his heart stop in fright as he turned only to find that the voice had come from a portrait of a wizened warlock, who had the look of a greying monkey. The eyes were however what shocked Harry for they were a shade of green he had only ever seen in the mirror.

"Tell me my young wizard, do you know who I am?"

"No, sir," Harry replied unsure of himself.

"Simply dreadful," the old warlock said shaking his head. "If you really must be told I am Alfred Peverell, Son of Salazar of Slytherin and First Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"You're the one they were talking about earlier!" Harry said remembering the name from the ceremony.

"That's correct; you could say that I founded the Order during my time at Hogwarts."

"Why?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"When I first came to this school I was nothing more then a frightened child, in truth I had only the faintest inkling of my parentage."

"How could you not know your father was Salazar Slytherin?" asked Harry.

"If you would but let me finish my story you might find out!" The portrait said giving Harry a dirty look.

"After Salazar left Hogwarts my mother's husband Uthred Peverell, who was a King in his own right, granted him the post of Court Wizard. At some point he began an affair with my mother, and thus I was born. Salazar's betrayal was discovered not long after my birth, and he was executed for it, so in truth I never met the man."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said, and in truth he was. Harry after all knew quote a lot about losing a parent.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Alfred said with a shrug. "How can a man miss that which he has not had?"

Harry had no good answer for that and so he remained silent.

"In any case when I came to Hogwarts I found that the rumors of my parentage had already preceded me. So I used it to my advantage, at first I only intended to protect myself from bullying, but soon people began to look to me as a leader. That was when the founders took notice."

"They wouldn't have let you become to powerful, would they? Not after what your father did," said Harry.

"Quite," the portrait replied. "My father leaving as he did nearly split the school in two, the founders were of course weary that I might try and lead some sort of riot to get rid of muggleborns."

"So what did you do?" Harry asked.

"Simple, I switched sides. I made a deal with the founders I would warn them of any plot to harm muggleborns and in exchange they would give me a free hand in how I dealt with my fellow Slytherins."

"They agreed to that!" Harry said in disbelieve.

"Agreed to it?" the portrait said with a chuckle. "They loved the idea. You see even though they hadn't parted on the best of terms the founders still dearly missed my father and here I was his spitting image, not just in looks either I thought like him too. They Gryffindor chief among them regarded me as a sort of nephew, they trusted me above all others."

"But didn't you want the muggleborns gone?" Harry asked, "I mean you are the son of Slytherin."

"I care very little what happens to muggleborns one way or another," the portrait said with a shrug. "That was my father's cause not mine."

"Then what did you care about?"

"Power," Alfred said simply. "I care very little for right or wrong, one man's hero is another man's villain, the only way to make sure you will be remembered properly is to write the history books."

"That's a little pragmatic," Harry answered with a quirked eyebrow.

"Perhaps, but it is a maxim that has served me well. In any case with the founders blessing I formed my own Order of the Serpent, I invited only my most trusted followers. There were six of them and I was the seventh one. For seven is a very powerful magical number, and wizards are creatures of symbolism."

"Is that why I had to go through that ceremony out there?" Harry said recalling the odd and ritualistic initiation rite.

"As I said wizards put great stock in symbolism. So I created the ceremonies of the order to overawe my followers. I claimed even in those days that the rituals and rites I passed to them were ones I had inherited from my father, and that only increased the esteem in which they held me," Alfred said with pride in his voice.

"I used this order I had created to rule Slytherin House and to a great extent the rest of the school. Once I graduated I permitted the Order to continue as it was after all a good way for me to keep tabs on the goings on of Hogwarts. Even as a young man I always intended to take this school as my own… it was after all my birthright."

"When Godric eventually died I was the natural choice to succeed him and so I became the first headmaster. The Order which only ever numbered six was still loyal to me and so I used them to keep tabs on the student body. And when I died I bequeathed unto them this portrait so that I would be able to guide them and my heirs through the centuries. Does that all make sense to you?"

"And what about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry said finally asked the question which had sent him on this mad hunt.

"I was wondering when you would ask me that," the portrait said with a small smile. "I shall tell you the same thing I told your predecessor, I never sought out the chamber. Why would I? Violence was never my way, and as it turned out I conquered Hogwarts without spilling a drop of blood… even unpure blood."

"But you must know who's behind the attacks!" Harry pressed.

"I imagine it's the same person as last time, Tom Riddle," the Portrait answered.

Harry was momentarily too shocked to respond. Despite asking the question he couldn't believe he had gotten a straight answer.

"Why haven't you told Dumbledore!?" Harry demanded. "If you're a former headmaster you'd have a portrait in his office."

Alfred threw his head back and laughed a very cold laugh. "Betray my own kin for the sake of a few mudbloods? I think not?"

"People could die!" Harry said in shock.

"That is always a risk," Alfred responded blithely. "I care very little about what happens to muggleborns one way or the other. But you're a fool if you think I'll have any part in seeing my heir carted off to Azkaban."

"If you won't tell Dumbledore then I will!" Harry responded fiercely.

The portrait seemed to find that very amusing. "You cannot tell Dumbledore. Do you not remember what happened not 10 minutes ago? When I became headmaster I gifted my father's old walking stick to the order but before I did I enchanted it…"

Harry suddenly felt the color drain from his face as he remembered the words of the pledge:

"Do you swear upon your life and magic never to speak what the greatest of the four would keep unspoken?"

"Ah now you remember," the portrait said with a smug grin. "If you were to go to Dumbledore and attempt to tell him what I told you, you would find that your mouth would refuse to move and your hands would refuse to write. That is what it means to swear an unbreakable vow."

"I will stop him!" Harry said fiercely. "I will close the Chamber!"

The portrait seemed to find that very funny.

A/N So the book which was only meant to be one chapter becomes three. I'm not too proud of that, but all things considered its coming along beautifully if a bit slowly.

As for the long delay my excuse is actually a lot more reasonable this time, in a desperate attempt to pay the bills I got a second job that effectively left me with about three hours of sleep a night. Under those conditions I doubt anyone would have much motivation to write.

Luckily my finances have more or less stabilized and I was able to tell my employers at Sprint where they could shove their IPhone. Hopefully I will have more time to write, but at this point we all know how much my promises are worth.

I will say this every review helps to motivate me to write quicker. I'm not the type to withhold chapters or anything but I think every writer knows exactly how motivational praise can be. And of course constructive criticism is an even better motivator.

One last thank you to Snakefang93 for his help and please don't forget to review.