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snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn't

have explained.

He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking

*194*

relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful - but certainly not angry and

scared.

"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, too, was looking at Harry in an

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unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry

didn't like it. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all

around the walls. Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.

"Come on," said Rods voice in his ear. "Move - come on -"

Ron steered him out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As

they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as

though they were frightened of catching something. Harry didn't have

a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Hermione explained

anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty

Gryffindor common room. Then Ron pushed Harry into an 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 ever

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?" Ron repeated

faintly.

*195*

"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, starting to feel quite angry. "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

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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 realize - how can I speak

a language without knowing I can speak it?"

Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though

someone had died. Harry couldn't see what was so terrible.

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake

biting off Justin's head?" 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," said Ron. "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 he couldn't quite explain.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a

thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

* IL96 *

Harry lay awake for hours that night. Through a gap in the curtains

around his four-poster he watched snow starting to drift past the

tower window and wondered . . .

Could he be a descendant of Salazar Slithering? He didn't know

anything about his father's family, after all. The Dursleys had always

forbidden questions about his wizarding relatives.

Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue. The words

wouldn't come. It seemed he had to be face-to-face with a snake to

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do it.

But I'm in Gryffindor, Harry thought. The Sorting Hat wouldn't

have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood...

Ah, said a nasty little voice in his brain, but the Sorting Hat wanted to

put you in Slytherin, don't you remember?

Harry turned over. He'd see Justin the next day in Herbology and he'd

explain that he'd been calling the snake off, not egging it on, which (he

thought angrily, pummeling his pillow) any fool should have realized.

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had

turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the

term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves

on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else,

now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and

revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common

room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of

wizard chess.

"For heaven's sake, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated, as one

*197*

of Ron's bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off

the board. "Go and find Justin if it's so important to you."

So Harry got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where

Justin might be.

The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the

thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, Harry walked

past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of

what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at

someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger.

Resisting the urge to take a look, Harry walked on by, thinking that

Justin might be using his free time to catch up on some work, and

deciding to check the library first.

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A group of the Hufliepuffs who should have been in Herbology were

indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be

working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harry could see

that their heads were close together and they were having what looked

like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether Justin was

among them. He was walking toward them when something of what

they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the

Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our

dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next

victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's

been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to

Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down

for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's

heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde

pigtails anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone

knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a

decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself

Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on,

"Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir,

Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we

know, Flich's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying

Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was

lying in the mud. Next thing we know - Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and,

well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be

all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and

Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I

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mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have

been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard

could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it

was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-

Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another

Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's

been hiding?"

Harry couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out

from behind the bookshelves. If he hadn't been feeling so angry, he

would have found the sight that greeted him funny: Every one of the

Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of

him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

*199*

"Hello," said Harry. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The Hufepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all

looked fearfully at Ernie.

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the

Dueling Club," said Harry.

Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We

were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?"

said Harry.

"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he

spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake

toward Justin. "

"I didn't chase it at him!" Harry said, his voice shaking with anger. "It

didn't even touch him!"

"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case you're getting

ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my

family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and

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my blood's as pure as anyone's, so -"

- cc I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely.

"Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"

"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.

"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said

Harry. "Id like to see you try it."

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, earning himself

a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded

cover of a large spellbook.

*200*

Harry blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going,

he was in such a fury. The result was that he walked into something

very large and solid, which knocked him backward onto the floor.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harry said, looking up.

Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered

balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of

the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging

from one of his massive, gloved hands.

"All righ', Harry?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could

speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"Canceled," said Harry, getting up. "What're you doing in here?"

Hagrid held up the limp rooster.

"Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a

Blood-Suckin Bugbear, an' I need the Headmaster's permission ter

put a charm around the hen coop."

He peered more closely at Harry from under his thick, snowflecked

eyebrows.

"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered -"

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Harry couldn't bring himself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the

Hufflepuffs had been saying about him.

"It's nothing," he said. "Id better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration

next and I've got to pick up my books."

He walked off, his mind still full of what Ernie had said about him.

"Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he

let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born .....

* 2 0 IL *

Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor,

which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a

strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. He

was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over

something lying on the floor.

He turned to squint at what he'd fallen over and felt as though his

stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of

shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And

that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight

Harry had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and

transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal,

six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an

expression of shock identical to Justin's.

Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a

kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the

deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they

could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled

voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But

he couldn't just leave them lying here .... He had to get help ....

Would anyone believe he hadn't had anything to do with this?

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As he stood there, panicking, a door right next to him opened with a