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The sheer volume of the sonic explosion which struck Ravenclaw table was incredible. And it hadn't been the epicentre of the blast. Most of the Lions who were taking their breakfast were so surprised they plunged their noses in what they were eating, fell from their stairs or succumbed to more basic and smellier instincts.
Just as the persons present were busy trying to cope with the massive prank which had been launched in front of their very eyes, a massive, single owl arrived from above and threw a heavy package just in front of Leo Black.
"DON'T OPEN IT LEO!" Screamed Ronald Weasley in front of him, his voice betraying how much his hearing had been damaged by the blast. "DON'T-"
Neither Leo Black nor Ronald Weasley or one of the Gryffindors had the reflex to do anything with the package the avian had deposed before it exploded, liberating a...snake?
AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
The alarmed shouts of the Gryffindors were high-pitched and fabulous in their authenticity. Who knew so many corpulent boys two or three times Alexandra's musculature could shriek like little girls?
"Everyone keep their calm!" Spoke Percival Weasley, trying to use his Prefect rank to re-establish order. "Everyone keep their calm. This is only a grass snake. It's not venomous!"
It was the correct thing to say, although some students took their legs and got the hell out of the way from the new arrival at the meal. Precaution understandable: the snake was really large and long, maybe six feet in length, grey-black coloured and was hissing a lot. The grass snake may not be venomous, but it was playing its part of the dangerous animal at the perfection. Lee Jordan had brought a tarantula last September but this was way more scary and unexpected for the children, who did their best to evade the reptile crawling on the table, reputation of courage be damned.
In all this animation, Hermione and Alexandra glanced at each other before looking beyond their respective shoulders at the Slytherin places. Sure enough, in the middle of the guffawing teenagers, Astoria Greengrass and Lyre de Male-Foi were the image one awaited of pure-blood princesses. Perfect face, impeccable manners, but nothing could hide the vengeful light of satisfaction shining in their eyes.
"And that, Nigel, is why you don't humiliate a girl before having an accurate idea of their powers and capabilities." Said Morag who had noticed too their regards at the former victims of Longbottom and his band.
A massive hiss interrupted all manifestation of laughter, panic, joy and appeals to calm. Astonishingly, it did not come from the grass snake, which had raised its head directly in front of a paralysed Leo Black's eyes, but from Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived himself.
The grass snake hissed threateningly twice for an instant, before doing the equivalent of a snake's salute and going slack on the table.
"By Merlin's pants, Longbottom is a Parselmouth!" Whispered Morag in a stunned voice.
"A what?" Asked Hermione.
"A Parselmouth. He can speak the language of the snakes!"
"I suppose not everyone has this...err... magical skill?" Alexandra asked, conscious of the storm of murmurs and grumblings which were rising in the Great Hall. She certainly couldn't speak to snakes, but there was no reason to assume other witches and wizards couldn't. In the mean time, about half of the school were looking at Longbottom like he had just butchered a student in front of them.
"No, it's extremely rare." Affirmed Nigel. "And Parseltongue is considered Dark."
"Why?" Frowned Alexandra. "It's just talking to snakes. I admit it's a bit...weird...okay creepy, to hear someone talking to animals, but I don't see how it can be Dark!"
"Well, Parselmouth isn't Dark per se," Instructed Morag, "but a lot of Dark Wizards have had this skill in the past and it is an inherited magical ability. The most famous of them was Salazar Slytherin."
"Oh." Hermione's mouth was open so wide she could have swallowed flies. "So Neville could be..."
"The Heir of Slytherin?" Finished politely the red-haired Ravenclaw. "Yes, he could."
"If he is, he's an excellent actor." Said Alexandra. "Look at him!" The face of the Boy-Who-Lived was a representation of confusion, shock and horror. Unless the boy was a masterful actor, it was the first time he spoke with a snake.
The reaction on the opposite side of the room was also worth the sight. Furious and angered faces were now displayed. The students sorted in the House of Salazar Slytherin didn't appreciate the Boy-Who-Lived having the tiniest connection with their Founder.
"Doesn't matter." Whispered Nigel, a clearly unneeded precaution as no one focused their attention on them. The Gryffindor table had become anew the centre of the show, and the Ravenclaw second-year had the sick feeling it wasn't going to stop. "I bet you by dinner everyone will think Neville's the great-great-great-something of Salazar Slytherin."
"I still don't think he is the Heir." Alexandra elaborated, seeing the looks of her friends being quite interrogative. "Neville is too brash, no subtlety and no motive to act against the victims. His House is supposed to be a shield against the pure-blood bigotry and all of that, right?"
"Sure." Sighed Morag. "But you have to admit it's a big coincidence. One Parselmouth at Hogwarts the same year petrifactions are taking place..."
"If the skill is considered Dark, any student having it will not advertise it by screaming in Parseltongue at the top of Gryffindor Tower." Remarked the black-haired girl, finishing pushing her plate aside and seizing her school bag. The Parselmouth revelation had cut her hunger, and the tempest of murmurs unleashed in the wall was not improving her mood.
"No." Admitted Hermione. "But after a thousand years, Neville Longbottom or anyone from a long line of wizard and witches could very well descend from Salazar Slytherin..."
11 December 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
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