No Turning Back Now.

A week later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were walking across the Entrance Hall when we saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece od parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned us over, looking excited.

“They’re starting a Duelling Club!” said Seamus. “First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind duelling lessons, they might come in handy one of these days...”

“What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?” I said, but I too read the sign with interest.
“Could be useful,” Ron said to us as we went into dinner. “Shall we go?”

We were all for it, so at eight o’clock that evening we hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

“I wonder who’ll be teaching us?” said Hermione, as we edged into the chattering crowd. “Someone told me that Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it’ll be him.”

“As long as it’s not –“ I began, but I ended on a groan. Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather around, gather around! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works.

“Let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begun. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry – you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered in my ear.

Snape’s upper lip was curling. I wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at anyone else like that they’d have been running as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast out first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I murmured, watching Snape barring his teeth.

“One – two – three –“

Both of them swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cried; “Expelliarmus!” there was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet; he flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.
Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tip-toes. “Do you think he’s alright?” she squealed through her fingers.

“Who cares?” said Harry, Ron and I together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I’ve lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, and excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see...”

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me...”

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron before him.

“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he sneered. “Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter –“

Harry moved automatically towards Hermione and me.

“I don’t think so,” said Snape, smiling coldly. “Mr Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter. Miss Granger – you can partner Miss Bulstrode. And you, Samuels – you can go with Mr Hendricks.”

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded me a bit of a picture I’d seen in Holidays with Hags. She was large and square and her jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile which she did not return.

From the other direction came a Ravenclaw, who I recognised to be in his third year. He had brown hair that was just past his ears. He was about medium build, and was as tall as Ron. He strolled over, and smiled at me, holding out his hand.

“Chase Hendricks,” he said.

“Corey Samuels,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform, “and Bow!”

Chase and I bowed politely at each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry and Malfoy barely inclining their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent – only to disarm them – we don’t want any accidents. One... two... three...”

I swung my arm over my shoulder, but before I could say anything, Chase’s spell hit me. It felt like I’d been hit over the head with a saucepan. I stumbled, and blinked a couple of times; clearing my vision.

“Sorry,” he said, “I started a bit early.”

“’It’s OK,” I said, still rubbing my head.

“Rictusempra!” I heard Harry shout beside me.

I turned just in time to see a jet of slicer light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry’s knees, choked; “Tarantallegra!” and next second Harry’s legs had begun to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

“Finite Incantatem!” he shouted; Harry’s feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing and they were able to look up.

Chase and I stood, laughing at the two of them. A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologising for whatever his broken wand had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain. Both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. I quickly leapt forward and pulled Millicent off. It was difficult; she was a lot bigger than I was.

“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you get, Macmillan... careful there Miss Fawcett... pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot...

“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted and looked quickly away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair – Samuels and Hendricks, how about you?”

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. “Neither of them would take this very seriously at all. We’ll all be on the floor in a fit of hysterics.” Chase and I exchanged a look; both of us grinning and nodding slightly. “How about Malfoy and Potter?” said Snape with a twisted smile.

“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. “Now, Harry, 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 over-excited.”

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

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

“What, drop his wand?” I commented, earning me a praising nudge from Chase.

“Three – two – one – go!” Lockhart shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, “Serpensortia!”

The end of his wand exploded. I watched as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between Malfoy and Harry and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. Chase and I, however, didn’t move.

“Don’t move, Potter,” said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it...”

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight towards Justin-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry walked forward, and then started hissing at the snake. The snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry looked up at Justin, grinning.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the Hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape looked at Harry like Justin had; with an angry expression, and, if I was right, a bit of fear. Ron started tugging on the back of Harry’s robes.

“Come on,” said Ron. “Move – come on...”

“Well, see you,” I said quickly to Chase, before running to keep up with Ron, Harry and Hermione, who were already out the door.

We silently dragged Harry all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common-room. Ron pushed Harry into a small armchair and said, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’m a what?” said Harry.

“A Parselmouth!” said Ron. “You can talk to snakes!”

“I know,” said Harry. “I mean, that’s only the second time I’ve done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once – long story – but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to. That was before I knew I was a wizard...”

“A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?” I repeated faintly.

“So?” said Harry. “I bet loads of people here can do it.”

“Oh no they can’t,” said Ron. “It’s not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad.”

“What’s bad?” said Harry. “What’s wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin –“

“Oh, that’s what you said to it?”

“What d’you mean? You were there... you heard me.”

“I heard you speaking Parseltongue,” said Ron, “snake language. You could have been saying anything. No wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something. It was creepy, you know.

Harry gaped at him.

“I spoke a different language? But – I didn’t realise – how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?”

I shook my head. All of us looked like someone had died, apart from Harry, who looked confused.

“D’you want to tell me what’s wrong with stopping a dirty great snake biting Justin’s head off?” he said. “What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn’t have to join the Headless Hunt?”

“It matters,’ said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, “because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That’s why the symbol of Slytherin house is a serpent.”

Harry’s mouth fell open.

“Exactly,” I said. “And now the whole school’s going to think you’re his great-great-great-great-grandson or something...”

“But I’m not,” said Harry, with a panic in his voice.

“You’ll find that hard to prove,” said Hermione. “He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.”