Keeping quiet was a good plan, but Harry had reckoned without his friends’ powers of observation. The third time the voice startled him in class, making him drop his quill and then remain jumpy for the rest of the lesson, Ron and Hermione had had enough. That evening, they dragged Harry into an unused classroom and confronted him.

“What’s up, mate?” Ron asked, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing Harry sternly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry mumbled, having a hard time meeting their eyes.

“We know something’s going on, Harry,” Hermione chimed in. “You keep acting like you’re being attacked or surprised. You’re not grabbing your scar, but it comes on suddenly, like when you would get the pains last year. Tell us what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.” He shook his head and tried to leave, but they stopped him.

“Oh, no,” Ron said with surprising determination. “Not this time, Harry. This time you’re going to tell us exactly what’s going on and not make us try to figure it out on our own.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. In the past, Hermione had been the pushy one, and Ron had been much more willing to let Harry get away with his secrets. Obviously that had changed.

“Please, Harry, don’t you trust us? We just want to help,” Hermione pleaded.

Harry felt ashamed of himself. He wasn’t being fair. Didn’t they have the right to decide if they wanted to be friends with a crazy person? What if he went nuts and started attacking people? He might actually hurt them! “I – I didn’t want to tell you,” he started, shamefaced, “because I don’t want you to stop being my friends.”

Ron snorted. “Like that’s gonna happen. Mate, are you touched in the head, or what?”

Harry looked at him. “Yeah. I am.”

There was a moment of silence as the other two stared at him. Then: “WHAT?”

Harry sighed. “I’m crazy. I’m hearing things that aren’t there. I don’t want to be sent to St Mungo’s so I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

Hermione frowned. “Harry, what on earth makes you think you’re crazy? How do you know the things aren’t there? Maybe it’s You Know Who.”

“My scar doesn’t hurt, ‘Mione. I think anything associated with Voldemort makes my scar hurt – it’s the link between us, see? And when I hear the voice, the scar doesn’t even tingle.”

“What’s the voice like, Harry? I mean, is it telling you to do stuff?” Ron asked, a bit nervously.

“You mean like ‘Smother Ron in his sleep’?” Harry asked sarcastically. “No. And before you ask, Hermione, it’s not giving me homework answers either.”

Ron grinned. “No tips on tomorrow’s Quidditch matches?”

“Or hints about possible surprise quizzes?” Hermione got into the spirit of things too.

Harry had to grin. “Nope, nor suggestions on how to avoid Filch or how to prank Draco and get away with it.”

“What a useless voice, then,” Ron shrugged, eyes teasing. “I can see why you’d want to ignore it. What’s the point of having it sound off and distract you if it’s not going to tell you anything useful?”

Harry laughed for what felt like the first time in months. He was so lucky to have friends like these!

“Seriously, though, Harry,” Hermione could only be silly for brief periods, “what does the voice say?”

Harry lost his grin. “Mostly stuff about blood and bones and killing and stuff like that.”

His friends looked worried. “I dunno, mate. That sure sounds like You Know Who.”

“Can you recognize the voice, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Maybe you’re hearing someone else’s thoughts?”

“Can Wizards do that?” Harry asked, surprised. Both turned to Ron.

He looked taken aback. “Well, I’ve never heard of it, but I guess maybe. Why? Does it sound like someone you know?”

Harry screwed up his face in an effort to remember. “I don’t think so. The voice is kinda whispery and harsh. It doesn’t really sound human.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked. “Can you imitate it?”

Harry concentrated, closing his eyes. “Blood… I want blood. Kill! Kill now!” he repeated. He opened his eyes and saw the other two staring at him. “What?”

“Harry, what was that?” Ron found his voice first.

“What? Did you recognize it?”

“Harry, that wasn’t even English,” Hermione told him.

“But it sounded like English,” he said, puzzled. “Didn’t I just speak English?”

Ron shook his head. “No. It was all hisses and slithery noises. It gave me the creeps.”

“I don’t get it. I don’t know anything but English,” Harry protested. “Not even French!”

“It didn’t sound like any language I’ve ever heard,” Hermione said. “Not like Chinese or Japanese even.”

“But –“ Harry stopped suddenly, an idea striking him. “Come on!” He led the way, hurrying out onto the school grounds and going right to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Harry, what are we doing here?” Hermione asked, eyeing the forest nervously.

“Yeah, mate, didn’t Snape already wallop you once this year for going in there?” Ron asked pointedly. “Are you looking for a repeat performance?”

“We’re not going into the forest, guys,” Harry promised. “Hang on a second.” He started wandering around the edge of the woods, looking at the ground. Ron and Hermione exchanged baffled looks.

After several minutes, Harry exclaimed in delight and reached down to the ground. He lifted something, spent a moment muttering to it or himself, then rejoined his friends. “Listen – does this sound like what I said before?” And turning to the small snake looped round his wrist, he said, “Thank you for offering to help me.”

“What an odd name! You two-feet are strange creatures. But you must beware, little speaker. The Creature under the stones has Awakened. It has no fondness for your kind.”

“Harry! That’s it!” Hermione’s shriek distracted Harry from the snake’s final words, and it scared the snake too. With a hiss, it slithered from Harry’s arm and disappeared into the underbrush. “That’s exactly like what you sounded like before! And you know we can’t hear the snake talking back to you – it is, right? We just hear a little hiss or two from it. Maybe that’s why no one but you is hearing this voice.”

Harry looked past Hermione’s excited expression to Ron’s pale face. “What is it?”

Ron gulped. “You- you’re a Parselmouth?”

“A what?” Both Harry and Hermione gazed at him blankly.

“You can speak to serpents?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. It just sounds like English to me. Why? Can’t everyone?”

“I can’t,” Hermione volunteered.

Ron shook his head. “You two don’t get it. Being able to speak Parseltongue is really, really rare.”

“See, Harry?” Hermione offered. “That’s why you’re the only one hearing the voice. It’s not that you’re crazy. It’s just that maybe there’s no one else at Hogwarts who speaks Parseltongue and so no one else is hearing the snake.”

“No!” Ron exclaimed, frustrated at their continued calmness. “You still don’t get it! I mean it’s really rare. I know there’s no one else at Hogwarts who’s a Parselmouth. I don’t even think there’s anyone else living who is.”

Harry shrugged. “Okay, so it makes me a little weird. I guess I’m used to that.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “No, it’s more than that. Look, Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth. So was – is – whatever – You Know Who. A lot of people figure it’s a Dark Wizard thing.”

Hermione leapt to Harry’s defense. “Well, that’s just stupid! And wrong – Harry’s proof of that! Why would it be evil to speak to snakes? They’re valuable members of the environment, you know!”

“Hermione, don’t get all eco-warrior on us, okay? I’m just telling you that Harry’s being a Parselmouth is going to make a lot of people uncomfortable,” Ron argued.

“Including you?” Harry asked quietly.

Ron flushed. “No. I was just – y’know – surprised, is all. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. Hey, maybe it’s a good thing. I mean, at least there’s one power that You Know Who has that you have too.”

Harry cheered up a little at that thought. “Yeah. That’s true.”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed, giving Ron an approving smile. “Just think: if You Know Who tells a snake to bite you, you can tell it to bite him! Won’t he be surprised then?”

Harry and Ron laughed. “That would be great. Maybe we can find a snake to sneak into his bed and chomp on him while he sleeps. That would be easy and quick!” Ron offered.

“Well, before we sic a snake onto You Know Who, we still have to figure out what’s making Harry’s voice. If you’re hearing it in Parseltongue, Harry, is it a snake you’re hearing?”

Harry frowned. “I can’t really explain it, but it doesn’t sound like a snake. I mean, the voice in my head doesn’t sound like the snake I was just talking to. And usually, I can only talk to or hear a snake that’s in front of me, like when I talk to you guys. There’s nothing around when I hear the other voice.”

“What we need to do is some research,” Hermione announced happily, ignoring the boys’ groans. “Maybe there’s some other creature, related to snakes, that Harry might be hearing.”

“If there is, then I know who to ask!” Ron said, grinning.

“Hagrid?” Harry suggested.

“No offense, Harry, I think Hagrid’s great an’ all, but I don’t know that after last year, I’d really want to trust him with a secret. No, I was thinking of Charlie. I mean, yeah, he studies dragons now, but he knows all about magical creatures. We can owl him and I bet he’d have some suggestions.”

“Ron, that’s brilliant!” Hermione said in surprise.

“Anything that gets me out of having to do the research,” he grinned back.

“Okay, Ron will owl Charlie – just pretend it’s a question for a homework assignment, all right? And while we’re waiting for his reply, we can see what we can find in the library. We can start with the Magical Creatures textbooks, and work our way into more esoteric texts. Maybe a biography of Salazar Slytherin might help,” Hermione mused, planning busily. The two boys sighed in resignation and followed her back to the castle.

##

Although their research kept them busy, the Trio still spent regular evenings with Professor Snape. On one such night, Hermione arrived a little earlier than the boys.

“Miss Granger,” Snape greeted her austerely, eyebrows raised. Usually the students arrived together, unless it was one of his nights with only Harry.

“Excuse me, Professor, but I was wondering if I might bring someone else down tonight. Professor McGonagall asked me to help Ginny Weasley with her Transfigurations homework – she’s having a few problems – but I didn’t want to miss our time here either.” She bit her lip nervously. Professor Snape wasn’t exactly fond of the Weasleys en masse, but he seemed to tolerate Ron well enough these days… She crossed her fingers behind her back for luck and watched Snape hopefully.

Snape thought for a moment. He detected Minerva’s fine hand in this. Knowing that this was one of Granger’s usual visiting nights, she had nevertheless asked her to help the Weasley girl. That probably meant she wanted Severus to take a look at her too. “Very well, Miss Granger. I trust you will inform Miss Weasley of proper decorum in my chambers? I will hold you responsible for her behavior.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Hermione scurried away, presumably to return with yet another redhead.

“Hey, Uncle Sev, where are the Gryffindorks?” Draco said, sauntering into his godfather’s quarters a few minutes later.

Snape frowned at him. “Good evening to you too, Draco. I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?”

Draco squirmed. Lucius would have had him bent over the couch and howling in a heartbeat for such atrocious manners, but he’d worried that the others were already there and didn’t want to sound like a pureblood prat in front of them. “Sorry, Uncle Severus. Good evening. I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“I expect the others shortly, Draco. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

Draco let out his breath in a sigh of relief. His godfather wasn’t that annoyed. “What are you working on?” he asked quizzically, wandering over to the desk.

“Fifth year essays. I will soon need to fetch some Headache Relieving potions.”

“Dunderheads?” Draco asked with a knowing grin.

“Indeed. By the way, before the others arrive, I should tell you that I spoke with the Headmaster, and he approved the idea for a Hogwarts prize for scholastic and athletic excellence. It will be awarded to one student in each year at the annual prizegiving ceremony.”

Draco let out a yelp of delight and hugged his godfather. It had worked! Surely his winning that prize would make up for Granger beating him in test scores.

Snape gave him a brief squeeze. “You will still have to earn it,” he reminded him sternly. “That means both keeping up your grades and showing good sportsmanship on the Quidditch pitch.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “Oh, Merlin.”

“I mean it. The athletic portion will be determined by Madame Hooch, so you’d better plan on impressing her with your sportsmanship as well as your flying, or you will have a difficult time winning the prize. “

Draco scowled. Hooch was always nattering on about not rubbing your opponents’ noses in their defeat, and where was the fun in that? Still, he didn’t think he’d have that much trouble charming the old witch. “Yes, Uncle Sev,” he said dutifully. “Thank you for getting the Headmaster to create the prize,” he added, remembering his manners.

“You’re welcome. I suggest we both start talking it up to your father, so that he is well aware of what a prestigious honor it will be for you to bring home.”

Draco nodded vigorously. “I’ll owl him about it tonight.”

Snape nodded to the table and the parchment and quill upon it. “No time like the present.”

The others arrived soon thereafter and settled into their usual routine. Harry reviewed his assignments with Snape while Draco and Ron played chess. The only difference was that Hermione was busy helping Ginny with transfiguring a grape into a marble and back again. After an hour and a chipped tooth, Ginny had it down pat.

“Great, Ginny!” Hermione praised. “See? It’s not that hard. It just takes a little concentration. Why don’t you take a break for a few minutes and then we’ll try it again, just to make sure.”

“Okay,” Ginny agreed, reaching into her bookbag for another assignment. Hermione wandered over to where Harry and Ron were now comparing notes from Charms, Draco having won the chess match.

“Hey, Granger, do you want to look over History of Magic together for the quiz?” Draco called.

“Sure. Let me just finish this,” Hermione answered, busy sorting out a discrepancy between the boys’ respective notes.

Draco tilted back his chair – another habit his father would treat severely – and looked absently around the room while he waited. His eye fell on where Ginny was quietly scribbling in a leatherbound journal. Curious, he leaned closer and nearly toppled over. “Weasley!” he yelped. “Where did you get that?”

Both Ron and Ginny looked up sharply, but Draco only had eyes for the girl.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” she snapped, clutching the book to her chest.

Draco jumped out of his chair and advanced on her. “That book! Where did you get it? It doesn’t belong to you!”

“Yes, it does!” Now Ginny was on her feet, too, and backing away. “Leave me alone!”

“What’s going on?” Ron hurried over in full-out Protective Big Brother mode. “Is he bothering you, Gin?”

“Leave me alone, all of you!” Ginny shouted, snatching up her bag. “It’s none of your business!”

“That’s not yours!” Draco made a sudden lunge for the book. Ginny screamed and jumped back, and Ron grabbed Draco by the back of the robes.

“Don’t you touch my sister!” he yelled.

“Leggo, you idiot!” Draco struggled against Ron’s grip. “She doesn’t know what that is!”

Snape pushed past Harry and Hermione, both open-mouthed spectators, and grabbed each of the boys with one hand. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“He’s bothering Ginny!” Ron accused, stabbing a finger at Draco.

“Uncle Sev, look at what she’s got!” Draco pointed at Ginny. “The journal!”

Seeing that hostilities were quelled, Snape released the boys and turned to the redheaded girl. “Miss Weasley,” he began, extending a hand for the book in question.

Before he got any further, Ginny turned and fled his quarters, the precious book clutched tightly to her chest.

Everyone stared after her. However much she might not trust Malfoy with her possessions, Ginny had no conceivable reason to refuse to show her things to a professor. Even if the book was contraband, her reaction was out of all proportion.

“Mr Weasley,” Snape said, his cool voice revealing nothing, “what do you know of that book?”

Ron gave him a baffled look. “Nothing, Professor. I’m sorry. I never saw her with it before this term.”

“Has your sister kept a diary in the past?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Snape glanced at Draco, who was giving him a meaningful look.

“What?” Ron burst out. “What is it?”

Snape gave a small nod, and Draco turned to the redheaded boy. “I’m pretty sure I know that book. If I’m right, it’s a Dark artifact that used to belong to my father.”

Ron frowned horribly. “How would something from that bas — um, sorry.” Draco shrugged lightly. “From your father’s Dark Arts collection end up with my sister?” He gave the blond boy a fierce look. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

Snape gave Ron a cuff on the back of the head before Draco could respond. “Mr Weasley! Use that brain, or I will motivate you through a different part of your anatomy! If Mr Malfoy had been in collusion with someone to distribute Dark artifacts to students at Hogwarts, would he really have brought it to our attention in this fashion?”

Ron rubbed his head and had the grace to look sheepish. “No, sir. Sorry, Malfoy. I guess I shouldn’t have stopped you when you tried to grab the thing.”

Draco tried not to show how gratified he was by the apology. “I’d probably be protective if I had a little sister too, Weasley,” he acknowledged.

“Draco, it just looked like a diary to me; what makes you so sure it’s the one that your father had?” Hermione asked, somewhat tentatively.

“It’s got some letters embossed on the front,” Draco replied. “TMR – that’s what first caught my eye. I had expected they’d be Ginny’s initials on her diary, so when they weren’t it made me think and I realized I’d seen them before.”

“I guess. It could still be a coincidence, though,” Hermione pointed out.

“But that is not a chance I intend to take with a potential Dark object, Miss Granger,” Snape said, ending discussion of the matter. “I will bring this to Professor McGonagall’s attention, and I am sure she will confiscate the book in question. In the meantime, if any of you see it, you are to inform Professor McGonagall or myself immediately. If it is a Dark object, it can be very dangerous, and I do not want any of you trying to touch or read it. Do I make myself clear?” All four nodded quickly. His tone left no doubt that he was taking this very seriously and would brook no disobedience. “I need also not remind you that Mr Malfoy’s position in this matter is quite tenuous. It would be extremely unfortunate if his father were to learn that Mr Malfoy has shared his knowledge with us tonight. Do I make myself clear?” The Gryffindors glanced at each other, then over to where a very pale Draco was staring at his godfather.

Draco looked at Snape with horror in his eyes. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t realized what he was doing, but he had just blurted out information that his father would quite literally kill to protect. If Lucius were playing some deep game with the youngest Weasley as a pawn, it was quite likely to be at the Dark Lord’s behest, or at least on his behalf. If Lucius found out that his own son had helped to thwart his machinations, even Draco’s status as his heir was unlikely to protect the boy. At the very least, Draco could expect a close and lengthy acquaintance with the Cruciatus, coupled with other Death Eater favorites.

Snape put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It will be all right, Draco,” he said softly.

“But if Father ever even suspects –“ Draco’s voice rose in terror.

“We won’t tell,” Ron interrupted. “I swear.”

“Me too.”

“You can have our Wizard’s Oaths if you want,” Harry offered.

“Honest, Draco. You were trying to help my sister. I swear none of us will ever talk about this again,” Ron, for once, looked straight at Draco without a hint of disdain or dislike.

Draco swallowed, some of his panic receding.

“It’s a shame in a way,” Ron joked, trying to make him feel better. “If I could tell the twins how you tried to help Gin, they might not prank you so often.”

Draco managed a weak sneer. “Your idiot brothers’ pranks are nothing compared to what my father’s reaction would be, Weasley. I think I’ll stick with them hating me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ron agreed. “Um, sorry that your father’s such an arse.”

Draco made a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob. “Me too.”

“That’s enough,” Snape said firmly. “There is no value in insulting one’s parents, even – or perhaps especially – if they deserve it. Now, you may have some tea and biscuits while I floo Professor McGonagall, then I believe we could all use an early night.”

The students, somewhat chastened, headed for the sofa, while Snape went to floo Minerva.

Although an alerted McGonagall intercepted Ginny on her return to the dormitory, Ginny insisted she had lost the diary on her way from the dungeons. A search of her bag, room, and person confirmed that the book was missing, presumably stashed somewhere in the castle. Ginny was put on notice that when found, the book was to be turned in immediately upon pain of a visit to the Headmaster – and the notification of her parents – if she were discovered with it. She in turn insisted it was just a regular diary, where she was keeping track of her assignments and life as a first year, but, as McGonagall told Snape, “it feels wrong, Severus. She’s not responding the way she should. It’s like she’s parroting someone else’s words. I’m going to keep a close eye on her, and have Hermione, Harry, and her brothers do the same. If we don’t get to the bottom of this soon, we will have to notify her parents.”