It was awkward to sit in potions class the next couple of times. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the birth certificate, and messed up some of his potions as a consequence.
Strangely enough, Snape didn’t take the opportunity to pick on him – well, not much, anyway. He only took points, which wasn’t nearly as bad as his snide sarcasm.
Defence against the Dark Arts, however, was as bad as it had ever been.
Or actually, worse.
They were discussing Banshees now – only not really, it was all only about Lockhart’s heroics.
“Now, to show you how I defeated the Banshee of Bandon ... any volunteers?”
No one put up their hand, not even Hermione. Only a collective, muffled groan was heard.
“Harry, how about you? Come here!”
As slowly as he could, Harry trudged to the front of the classroom.
Lockhart instructed him to make a crooning noise – not that Harry really understood how a banshee was supposed to sound – and proceeded to wrestle him to the floor. “Excellent acting”, he praised. Then, in a whisper, continued: “You have the most beautiful eyes. Just like your mother.”
In the front row, Hermione snapped her fingers. “Sir, I have a question!”
Forced to release Harry, Lockhart got up. “Yes, Miss Granger?”
“Quirin Sumo says that a banshee is an otherworldly being, something between a ghost and a magical being. I just wondered, why can you wrestle with them?”
Lockhart flashed his prize-winning smile. “What an excellent question! I could only wrestle with the banshee because I was wearing cold iron on my body.”
Harry made his way back to his table.
“Sir, please, what exactly is cold iron? Is it iron you kept in the fridge?”
Hermione deserved an Order of Merlin for that. At the very least. Asking such a stupid question must be causing her physical pain.
“Fridge? Ah, the muggle thing. Yes, indeed, Miss Granger, one does use a coldness spell ...”
Just last week, Hermione had explained to them that cold iron was meteorite iron and the special thing about it was that you didn’t need as hot temperatures to make it into swords. Or something, Harry didn’t remember exactly.
When Lockhart finished his monologue, Harry was safely back at his desk.
Moments later, the lesson was over, and he couldn’t get out of the classroom fast enough.
Harry couldn’t say exactly why, but now, it annoyed him much more than before to be picked almost every single time Lockhart needed someone to play a monster or demonstrate a spell on.
Pretending to be a banshee wasn’t exactly more embarrassing than playing a werewolf, but still ...
“We should tell someone”, Hermione interrupted his thoughts. “It is weird, how Lockhart always picks you.”
Harry shrugged. “Snape always picks ON me.”
“Yes but ... honestly, I had thought you get it now. You acted more normal today, too.”
The corridor got rather crowded when Professor Flitwick stopped to wait for the moving stairs to move the right direction.
Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. “More normal, how?”
“You winced when he touched you”, Ron observed. “You didn’t do that before, I always thought you were just that great an actor.”
“I guess my supply of acting ability is running out”, Harry joked. Ron was right, though. Something had changed.
He would never admit to having liked the attention Lockhart gave him, but ... perhaps he had. Just a little bit. Not because he wanted the fame, as Snape always accused him, but because it was nice that a teacher liked him more than the others.
Now, it was just annoying.
“Lockhart mentioned something about my mother”, he continued. “Perhaps we could ask him ...?”
“When? During class?”
Impossible. Harry didn’t want everyone to hear. Especially if it turned out it was his mum on Rose’s birth certificate. “We could sneak out. I don’t think he’ll punish us for that.”
“Harry, I don’t think that’s a good idea. If you really want to ... of course it is better that we come with you, but still ...”
“It’s not that I think it is dangerous, but what can the idiot know, really?”, Ron said.
“He must have gone to school with my parents, I’m sure he knows something.” Even Lockhart must have heard some gossip during his time at school, right?
“Sure, but so does McGonagall.”
Ron was right, but if it was a secret everyone wanted to keep from him, something he wouldn’t like to hear – like his mother going out with Snape – then Lockhart would be the only one dumb enough to not know that.
Or Hagrid ... Hagrid wasn’t stupid. Well, not really. He was just ... Hagrid. And he might let something slip ...
But Hagrid would remember that they weren’t to go out alone, and unlike Lockhart, Hagrid would care.
It wasn’t really that important. Not important enough to put Hagrid in a situation where he had to tell Dumbledore or risk his job and keep the secret.
There were no new cases of petrified students, and everyone had relaxed a bit when Harry heard the voice again.
“Did you hear it now?”, Harry asked Hermione in a whisper. “The voice?”
“Please talk louder, Potter, I am sure we all want to know”, Snape drawled.
Harry fell silent. If Snape found out he heard voices ...
But Snape was not done with him. Stepping closer, he stared Harry right in the eyes.
It took all of Harry’s Gryffindor courage to stare right back at him.
“Now? Care to enlighten us?”
Of course, Harry kept his mouth firmly shut. Hearing mysterious voices was not a thing he wanted Snape to know about.
“I have had it with your disrespect, Potter. Follow me.”
“Sir, you aren’t supposed to leave us alone”, Hermione reminded him.
“I am well aware, Granger. Everyone, follow me.” Snape walked towards an empty classroom, beckoned them inside, and threw the door shut, sealing it with some kind of spell.
“Now, Potter, what was it that you so urgently needed to inform Miss Granger of? I can wait. No one will leave this classroom until you talk.”
The time seemed to stretch forever. After about ten minutes, Harry wondered why the teacher for their next lesson hadn’t come looking for them.
After some more time, Harry seriously considered telling Snape that he heard voices just so he could get away from the angry glares of the Slytherins and some of the Gryffindors.
Just when he opened his mouth, a pearly white figure entered through the locked door. “Professor Snape, I have grave news”, the Bloody Baron announced.
“Not in front of the children, then.” Snape performed a gesture that Harry recognized from their holidays. And sure enough, he could only hear buzzing while the Bloody Baron spoke to Snape.
After the ghost had finished his report, Snape turned towards the gathered students. “There has been another attack. I shall take you directly to your common rooms.”
Of course, being Snape, he took the Slytherins to their dungeon first.
When they finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Snape followed them inside.
“You come with me, Potter.”
Harry wondered what that meant for about a second, then Snape threw floo powder into the fire.
“Headmaster’s Office”, he said and stepped in, dragging Harry with him.
In almost no time, Harry felt himself being pulled out of another fire.
The smoke bit in his eyes and he had to cough so hard it took him a while to realize that Dumbledore was there.
Dumbledore gently patted his back, and Harry found he could breathe easier.
“I presume you have good reason to drag Harry here in such a manner, Severus?”
“The boy told Miss Granger about having heard a voice, implying it wasn’t the first time, and that Miss Granger could not hear it. Considering that he is a parselmouth, this certainly warrants investigation. Especially since there was another attack shortly after he heard the voice.”
“A parselmouth? Curious, most curious. What, exactly, did the voice say, Harry?”
Harry briefly considered denying everything, but then decided to just tell the truth. If Snape thought there was some connection to the attacks, he needed to convince Dumbledore he had nothing to do with it.
“It wanted to kill, sir. Just that, really. ‘Let me kill’ or something along those lines.”
“Forgive an old man a stupid question, Harry, but did it sound like it might be a snake?”
A snake? That would explain everything! “Yes, sir, it could have been, I guess. I didn’t really pay attention to how it sounded, but ... that would explain why no one else heard it, right?”
“Indeed, Harry.” Dumbledore turned to Snape. “Thank you very much, Severus. That narrows it down considerably. If you would, take Harry back and then return here. We have much to discuss.”
When Harry stumbled out of the fire of the Gryffindor common room, Ron was thankfully there to pat his back while he coughed his lungs out.
“What did Snape want?”
“Not here.”
They went to their dormitory and Harry told Ron what had happened.
“Huh, so it’s a snake? Figures, it is Slytherin’s monster, after all.”
Not long after they had returned to the common room, it was flooded by students.
“Professor Dumbledore wants everyone in their common rooms”, Percy explained. “Didn’t say why, but there must have been a new attack. Worse than the others.”
When Professor McGonagall came to fetch them to dinner, she bore a grim expression. “The school will be closed as soon as all the parents have been informed.”
“What?” There was still some time to go until the summer, and Harry didn’t look forward to seeing the Dursleys earlier than usual. “Why?”
“The headmaster will explain it to all of you in the Great Hall.”
When they arrived, it was eeriely quiet. Only the Slytherin table was still empty, but before Harry could wonder why, Snape arrived, all the Slytherin students in tow.
Dumbledore didn’t have to ask for silence.
“Today, one of the places at the high table remains empty”, he began. “And it will be so until the end of term. Most of you did not know him well, but many will, no doubt, keenly feel the loss. I regret to have to inform you of the death of Gilderoy Lockhart.”
There was a shocked silence, interrupted only by some cheering from the Slytherin table, but it died immediately under Snape’s stern gaze.
Flitwick walked up to Dumbledore and told him something. Murmurs started among the Ravenclaws.
“Silence, please.” Dumbledore hit a spoon on the side of his goblet. “Professor Flitwick just informed me that one of his students went missing. If anyone knows where Luna Lovegood is or might be, they are to tell a teacher or, in case they feel ... guilty about something, their prefect, who is at liberty to not mention their name when relaying the information to Professor Flitwick or me.”
Chapter 7