A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 51: I Want to Learn Parseltongue

The trio stepped out of the Great Hall and followed a stone path leading to an open area.

It was after nine in the evening, and the night had fallen completely, casting darkness all around.

"What on earth is going on? Why are you acting so strangely?" Harry shook off the arms of his companions and asked, annoyed.

Ron glanced at him and said, "Harry, you've been exposed."

"What—" Harry suddenly choked, a profound fear gripping his insides. "You mean, about speaking Parseltongue?"

"We heard you talking to that big black snake just now, using a different language," Ron explained.

Ron's words made his heart sink further, and he desperately tried to find reasons for himself. "But I was trying to save Justin's life! If I hadn't told the snake not to attack him—"

"Was that what you meant at that moment?" Ron interrupted.

"Of course! You were there too..."

"Mate, your facial expression while speaking, it was kind of eerie... like you were giving it orders, encouraging it to attack continuously," Ron said.

Hermione chimed in with a somewhat sad tone, "Harry, I think... a possible reason is that Parseltongue has an inherently sinister aura. Your voice at that moment was a hoarse hiss, accompanied by a chilling echo, making it sound unsettling."

"Professor Snape mentioned that Salazar Slytherin also used Parseltongue without restraint to control snakes, making them serve him. That's why in the eyes of others, he had the image of a dark wizard," she continued.

Meanwhile, Felix Harp approached Dumbledore later in the evening, and the two engaged in a lengthy conversation.

"Felix... your keen observations surprised me. I will inform the portraits in the castle and the professors to work a bit harder for some time. During the Christmas break, most young wizards will go home, and by then, the castle will be relatively empty. We can conduct a comprehensive search..."

"Dumbledore, have you considered the issue of Parseltongue?"

"Yes, Parseltongue might indeed be the key to unlocking the Chamber of Secrets. But I believe you'll find a way, Felix."

"Of course. However, regarding the Dueling Club..."

Dumbledore neither agreed nor disagreed, saying, "If Professor Lockhart doesn't object, I have no issue with it."

Would Lockhart object? The Dueling Club was already under his purview.

Felix rose with satisfaction, took a few steps, then suddenly halted. "Forgive me for being straightforward, Headmaster Dumbledore, but have you not considered simply telling Harry Potter? He and his friends have been following the Chamber's clues."

Dumbledore fell into silence. "I'm not yet certain, Felix. Harry's Parseltongue ability has reminded me of certain things. I need to be certain..."

...

That night, Harry tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He gazed through the curtain's gap, watching snowflakes drift past the castle windows, feeling utterly lost.

Once again, he remembered the Sorting Hat's advice.

"I belong in Gryffindor," he emphasized to himself.

Originally, Harry thought that this day would be the second most challenging of his school year (the first being the day Ron received a howler from Mrs. Weasley). But he was mistaken. The next morning, news had spread throughout Hogwarts, and everyone looked at him with odd glances.

As if, at any moment, he might suddenly open a mouth full of fangs and snap their heads off.

For most of the afternoon, Harry hid in an abandoned classroom with Ron, watching Hermione concoct the Polyjuice Potion.

While watching Hermione throw bundles of lacewing flies into the cauldron, an idea suddenly struck Harry. "Hermione, what did Professor McGonagall want when she talked to you yesterday?"

Ron lifted his head, stopping his doze.

Hermione's expression lit up suddenly, and she announced excitedly, "My paper has finally been published."

Harry had almost forgotten about it, and though he had been looking forward to it, three months had passed, and the paper had completely slipped his mind.

"It took so long to publish, that's quite odd," Ron remarked.

"That's because it took me over two months just to revise the paper, not to mention the time for review. They sent me an acceptance letter along with a copy of the Daily Prophet and a sample issue of 'Who Determines Ancient Runes'—handed to me by Professor McGonagall."

Her mood was cheerful as she poked a few leeches directly into the cauldron, stirring them in.

"Why two different publications?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"The main text of the paper is in 'Who Determines Ancient Runes,' but the Daily Prophet also reported on it," Hermione explained with narrowed eyes, clearly satisfied with the outcome.

She decided to keep both the Daily Prophet and 'Who Determines Ancient Runes' as collectibles and take them home over the summer.

Having survived Friday, the weekend had finally arrived.

On Saturday morning, the trio hid in a corner of the common room. Harry's restlessness grew; he felt like every person passing by intentionally glanced at him, and even the voices around them seemed to drop suddenly.

Yet, the attitude of the Gryffindor students was not bad at all. If Harry were to walk out now, he could easily clear a corridor—a presence comparable to that of Argus Filch, the castle caretaker.

Mr. Filch had been employing a different strategy lately, staying in the shadows and waiting for rule-breaking students to come to him, especially after his cat was petrified. Armed with his familiarity with the castle, he had caught three pairs of students violating rules by hiding for secret rendezvous, effectively spreading fear among the students of Hogwarts.

Around noon, Professor McGonagall paid a visit, collecting a list of students staying at school for Christmas. She did this every second week of December.

The trio found Draco Malfoy's name on the list, and, without discussing it, they all decided to stay.

After Professor McGonagall left, Harry and Ron played a game of wizard chess to kill time, accompanied by occasional sighs.

Just as Hermione was about to say something, an owl flew in and landed on her shoulder.

Hermione untied the letter from the owl's leg; it was a note.

"It's from Professor Snape," she said, looking at Harry and Ron with a somewhat peculiar expression. "He's inviting Harry and me to his office tonight, says it's something important."

Harry was taken aback.

Seven o'clock in the evening.

The trio walked towards the Ancient Runes office. Ron suddenly grew a bit uneasy and asked, "Can I come too? I mean, Professor Snape asked for Harry..."

"You've asked that three times already. Professor Snape mentioned you as well, saying he would welcome you if you were interested," Hermione said impatiently.

At the office's entrance, she knocked, then pushed the door open.

Professor Snape was bent over his desk, looking at a book. A rare sardonic smile graced his face.

This expression was not common, and Hermione quickly glanced at the title of the book: "Armando Dippet: A Master or a Fool?" by Rita Skeeter.

The young witch noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table too, with a photo of Headmaster Dumbledore on the front page and the headline reading, "Dumbledore's Grand Blunder."

Her curiosity piqued, but Professor Snape placed the book on top of the newspaper.

Hermione: "..."

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Harry greeted cautiously.

"Come, the three of you, take a seat."

Felix Harp sat on a sofa, facing the three young wizards.

"Professor, did you need something from me?" Harry's heart raced; please, don't bring up Parseltongue, don't mention Parseltongue.

"Potter, you are a Parselmouth."

Harry: "..."

"Professor, I swear, it wasn't me who opened the Chamber. There's another Parselmouth in the castle who is the Heir of Slytherin!" Harry blurted out excitedly, nearly revealing the Polyjuice Potion and the Malfoy incident.

"Calm down," Felix conjured three glasses of orange juice with his wand. "No one said you opened the Chamber."

"Then why did you summon me—"

Harry was puzzled, but Felix nodded towards the floating glasses of orange juice. Harry took one and took a sip.

Hermione and Ron followed suit, sipping from their glasses.

"I called you here for a simple reason. I want to learn your Parseltongue."

"Splutter!"

"Cough, cough!"

"Cough!"

"Professor, did you just say...?" Harry couldn't believe it. If he could rid himself of the Parseltongue ability, he would pay any price. But now, someone was actively trying to learn it?

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