Watching Lockhart get blasted back into the corner yet again, Tver and Snape both realized the same problem: if they kept going, neither of them would be able to hold back.
This wasn't like last time. Last time, Professor McGonagall had been there to cover for them, letting them unleash their magic freely. Now there was only Lockhart, that useless fool. If he hadn't acted as a human shield just now, that spell would've hit the students. Neither of them wanted that.
With this in mind, they lowered their wands at the same time.
Tver was smiling, but Snape was anything but pleased.
That whirlwind had summed up the entire duel. Tver stayed calm and collected throughout, drawing on all kinds of spells and Transfiguration as easily as breathing, always responding with the right technique at exactly the right moment. His improvement since last year's duel with Professor Flitwick was obvious.
Snape, meanwhile, had gradually shaken off the rust in his combat skills during the fight, but against Tver he still felt constantly on the back foot. He had to dig into his deepest reserves just to keep things even. And Tver hadn't even revealed a single trump card.
Realizing this, Snape's expression grew even more severe. He always looked stern, but right now even Malfoy didn't dare go near him for fear of setting him off.
"Excellent, truly excellent."
Lockhart got back up yet again like some indestructible insect, pretending to brush dust off his robes.
"A marvelous performance. If only it had been a bit more polished—like mine." He beamed.
The students laughed too, but only out of mockery. They weren't skilled enough to grasp the nuances of a duel like this, but even with their limited understanding, they could tell that both duelists could wipe the floor with Lockhart without effort.
"Ahem." Lockhart dialed back his grin. "Since you've enjoyed such a wonderful performance, why don't we give everyone a bit of guidance? Teach you how to duel properly?"
The young wizards immediately stopped laughing, suddenly finding Lockhart far more impressive than before. They'd been itching to duel for ages, dying to take the professors' place onstage and recreate those smooth, effortless moves. Of course, they'd need different opponents—they weren't volunteering to get pummeled.
But Tver had no desire to play dueling games with the students. They simply weren't ready for that level of combat. If all they could do was toss spells back and forth mindlessly, they'd be better off practicing on the statues instead. At least then they could build real experience quickly.
So he planned to wait until the next school year before bringing dueling into his lessons. Watching them flail around couldn't compete with returning to his office, sipping pumpkin juice, eating biscuits, and reading a book.
So Tver said his goodbyes, waved to the students, and left the Great Hall under their reluctant stares.
Lockhart, of course, was thrilled to see Tver go—and Snape as well, ideally—so he could have the spotlight all to himself.
He hurried to pair the students up and told them to follow standard dueling procedures. As expected, the results were disastrous. The hall was too small, and with their slow casting, they might as well have fought with their fists.
Moments later, chaos erupted. Students and their partners were tangled together in messy scuffles, nothing like the graceful duels they'd imagined.
Seeing this, Lockhart had no choice but to pick a pair of students to demonstrate. At Snape's suggestion, Harry and Malfoy were the lucky ones selected.
"Too bad," Ron said to Harry without missing a beat. "If Professor Fawley were coaching you, you could've flattened Malfoy and gotten revenge for all that resentment built up during cleaning duty!"
Across the stage, Malfoy had Snape's guidance, while Harry…
He glanced at Lockhart, who had dodged his gaze several times, pretending he hadn't seen a thing.
Forget it. He walked onto the stage slowly and met Malfoy's eyes, just like the two professors had moments earlier.
"Raise your wands and get ready!" Lockhart shouted. "When I count to three, cast your spells and disarm your opponent. One… two… three!"
"Serpensortia!" Malfoy shouted the instant the words left Lockhart's mouth.
A burst of black smoke erupted from his wand, twisting violently in the air before crashing onto the stage and forming a long black snake.
The serpent raised its head and slid across the platform. Young wizards near the edge screamed and jumped back, clearing a wide space around it.
"Don't move, Potter," Snape drawled. "Leave it to me…"
Seeing Harry so flustered even lifted his mood a little.
"I can do it!" Lockhart interrupted loudly, waving his wand in a panic.
But of course, letting Lockhart cast was a mistake.
A loud bang rang out. The black snake shot more than three feet into the air and then slammed back down onto the floor.
That was enough to enrage it completely. Hissing furiously, it glided toward Justin Finch-Fletchley in the front row, its jaws opening wide to reveal long, venomous fangs.
Just as it was about to strike, Harry instinctively stepped forward and shouted, "Let him go!"
The moment he spoke, the snake collapsed onto the floor, jaws closing, suddenly docile as if it were a toy.
Harry beamed at Justin, pleased with himself. If Tver had been there, he would've noticed that this expression looked exactly like Ginny's whenever she wanted praise.
But Justin didn't smile back.
"What kind of trick do you think that was?"
His eyes widened in terror. He spun around and bolted out of the Great Hall.
The hall fell silent. Harry realized everyone was looking at him the same way Justin had—as if he were some kind of monster.
Even Snape walked over with a deep frown, dissolving the black snake back into a wisp of smoke.
For the first time, Harry saw such a heavy expression on Snape's face. The usual coldness and sarcasm were gone, replaced by something deep and unreadable.
Just as Harry stood there in confusion, he felt someone tug lightly at the back of his robes.
"Come on," Ron whispered. "Let's go—quickly…"
Harry let Ron lead him out of the hall, Hermione hurrying behind them with her head down.
What confused him even more was how everyone they passed stepped away from him automatically, as if he were giving off the same foul aura Professor Quirrell had last year.
Ron and Hermione didn't explain a thing, dragging him along until they reached the empty Gryffindor common room.
They sat down together, and Harry, still dazed, let them push him onto a stool.
"You're a Parseltongue. Why didn't you tell us?"
"A… what?" Harry said.
"Parseltongue! The ability to talk to snakes!"
Harry spread his hands, baffled.
"What's so strange about that? I talked to a python once, before I even came to Hogwarts, before I knew I was a wizard."
"But what's the problem? It's simple."
"Simple?!" Ron's voice came out hoarse, like it got stuck in his throat.
"Yeah. You just talk to the snake, and it understands."
"Harry!" Hermione said shakily. "What we heard wasn't normal speech. It was… a really eerie hissing sound."
Harry suddenly understood why everyone had acted so strangely.
"You mean," he whispered, voice trembling, "you didn't know I was telling the snake not to attack Justin?"
Ron and Hermione nodded, worry etched all over their faces.
"We couldn't understand a word you said. And honestly, that sound was frightening. It looked like you scared the snake so badly it just collapsed," Ron explained.
"I can explain it to everyone," Harry said quickly. "Or I can bring another snake and show them!"
"I wouldn't," Hermione whispered. "Do you know why the emblem of Slytherin is a snake? Because Salazar Slytherin was a famously known Parseltongue."
Ron nodded. "People might think you're his long-lost descendant or something. The more you show it, the more they'll panic."
Harry stared at them, a cold dread creeping through him.
After all the time they'd spent searching for the Chamber of Secrets heir… it was him?
"But I'm not," he said weakly, sounding unconvinced even to himself.
"Remember what Professor Fawley said?" Hermione asked. "Pureblood families are all interconnected. After a thousand years, there might only be one person left carrying Slytherin's blood. And that could be you."
Her words hit Harry like the icy wind outside, freezing him to the core.
"How about we talk to the professor tomorrow morning?" Ron suggested.
The idea finally eased some of the fear tightening Harry's chest.
"Yeah." He nodded as hard as he could.