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The Serpent's Gaze, Book Two: Slytherin's Secrets	By : DictionaryWrites Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1582 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the characters therein belong to JK Rowling; I'm playing in the sandbox, as it were, whilst claiming no ownership and making no money.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
"Oi, Harry!" Harry turns, and he offers the twins a smile as they come towards him. He hasn't seen them around much for the past few weeks - according to Hermione they'd been spending a lot of their time holed up with Lee Jordan in their dormitory, and Harry knows better than to ask what they'd been doing. Fred and George are inventors by their very nature, but Harry doesn't necessarily want to know what exactly they've been inventing.
"Hey, Fred, George. Did you have a good holiday?"
"All the better for your assistance, Harry, my boy," George says affectionately, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder; on Harry's other side, Fred mimics his brother's action, leaving Harry stuck between the two of them as they walk along the bath down to the owlery. "One hundred Galleons!"
"A hundred Galleons," Fred agrees, "Truly a princely sum for so little effort, so little work!"
"And for a self-rewarding task, no less: Lockhart won't even look at us when we enter his classroom." Harry glances between the two of them, trying to get his head around where this conversation might be going, but then George adds, "But, Harry, were it not for your gallant little self, we'd not have got the idea."
"We gave Creevey ten Sickles for the picture, originally, but we gave him another five Galleons once we won the prize money. We just wanted-"
"Oh, you're not giving me any money for this," Harry says firmly. Fred and George both frown at him. Harry is aware of the pride all of the Weasleys seem to take where honour is involved - it had been hard enough giving Ginny the collected set of Lockhart's books last summer, even though they'd cost so little.
"We're not giving it to you, Harry," Fred argues. "We're just-"
"No, no, look, I didn't contribute at all except to give you the advert. I won't take any money from you." The twins share a look over his head, but Harry won't be convinced. "Look, I'm getting money this year anyway - that Sartorius bloke is paying me per hour for helping him with the Parselmouth stuff, so there's no need." There's a long pause as the twins have a silent conversation over Harry's head.
"Fine," George says finally, and Fred gives a reluctant nod. "Thanks, Harry. It'll look really good for us, that article."
"Well, yeah," Harry says, "Are you guys planning on being journalists?" It doesn't seem quite right for them, but Harry can sort of see it, the two of them as the eccentric, oddball journalists of a comic book series.
"Oh, no," Fred says, giving a little chuckle that's more than slightly evil sounding. "No, no, we have plans galore up our sleeves, Potter, and none of them involve the Daily Prophet." They ruffle his hair, and Merlin, Harry wishes they'd stop bloody doing that, but then they run to leave him be, making their way back up to the castle as they let Harry go and send that week's letters. They're a strange pair, Harry thinks, but he's glad that they're friends rather than enemies - he wouldn't want to live in a world where they pranked him as mercilessly as some of the other students at Hogwarts.
---
For the rest of the week, Fred and George seem to take note of how much their affection can irritate Harry. Whenever they see him in the halls, they loudly and obnoxiously blow kisses at him, hug him between them, or touch his hair - worse still, Ron and Ginny receive the exact same treatment, and Ron blames Harry for it, as if Harry has some sort of control over Fred and George that he doesn't. Ginny takes it in her stride, laughing and offering back the same, over-the-top fraternity, but Harry just starts hexing them whenever they come too near him.
"Potter! Detention with me on Friday!"
"Professor McGonagall, it was self-defence!" The twins, despite their new jelly legs, stagger down the hall together, laughing, and Harry lets out a noise of frustration as he follows the other Slytherins into Transfiguration. They're studying the theory behind conjuration, and Professor McGonagall leans against her desk, watching them all keenly.
"Is there anyone in here who knows how to conjure a living animal?" Cautiously, Theodore, Draco and Harry each raise their hands, and McGonagall raises her eyebrows, obviously surprised. Conjuration is usually N.E.W.T. level magic, Harry's aware, but the snake summoning spell hadn't been all too difficult, once he'd started practising. "I assume you all know the same spell?"
"Snake summoning, Professor McGonagall," Theodore answers, and she gives a curt nod of her head.
"Why don't you demonstrate for us, Mr Potter?"
"The last time I tried this spell I conjured a dead snake," Harry admits, but Professor McGonagall doesn't seem at all deterred by his hesitation, and gestures for him to stand up and demonstrate his expertise nonetheless. Harry stands, focusing on his desk in front of him, and he casts, "Serpensortia!" A snake does burst from his wand, and for a second it remains tortuously still, but then it gives a twitch and slithers across the table, letting out a hiss. Harry sags in relief.
"20 points to Slytherin house for an excellent conjuration, Mr Potter, and 20 more to Slytherin for you two, Nott, Malfoy." McGonagall is a strict teacher, but she's certainly fair, and she picks up the snake on Harry's desk, bringing it to the front of the classroom and examining it carefully. "Usually, I wouldn't expect conjuration until N.E.W.T. level: well done, the three of you. For now, however, we will continue with our syllabus: get out your cauldrons, and we shall see if we can't make badgers out of them."
McGonagall pauses for a moment, holding the snake very gently between her fingers, and then says, "Have you mastered Vipera Evanesco, Mr Nott?"
"No, Ma'am," Theodore says, shaking his head, and McGonagall turns to Draco, who gives a small nod and casts his spell: the snake Vanishes with a soft hiss, and McGonagall smiles as she looks between the three of them. Harry doesn't think he's seen her smile at a group of Slytherins before.
"Another five points to Slytherin, Mr Malfoy: very impressive." Harry can see Draco all but preen as Professor McGonagall turns away - it doesn't matter, after all, that he doesn't like her personally. Any praise is praise for Draco Malfoy.
---
"Books!" comes a loud call from the Slytherin common room, and Harry and Blaise lean out of their seats to watch Lindon Sartorius come into the common room, a few boxes hovering behind him as he walks. The Slytherin library has been shaping up nicely, with donations coming from both students (Harry's copies of Lycanthropy In Society and all of Lockhart's books had been gladly contributed) and from various alumni, but there must be forty or so volumes stacked in the wooden boxes, and Sartorius only flicks his wand to set them flying onto shelves. "I shouldn't get too excited, children," he says airily. "These are copies of the books we found at the bottom of the astronomy tower."
"Are they any good?" Harry asks as various students pick at the books, scanning through them.
"We've printed them out, as they were all hand-written, but they're a mix of spare notes, lesson plans, journals and abandoned sketch books. Helpful from an academic's view, but not the most exciting of reading." Harry has never seen Sartorius in such a good mood as he stacks up his boxes: the smile on his face is dazzling, and he looks about the Slytherin library with an obvious satisfaction. "There were nineteen books discovered in all, and you're receiving two advanced copies of each: six of the same are being donated to the main library."
Harry walks with Sartorius out of the common room, holding his boxes for him, and asks, "Advanced copies?"
"All others are being sold to Flourish and Blotts: all profits from their production will be sent straight to Hogwarts, but they're going to be free to copy, to redistribute, et cetera. It's called public domain, apparently." Harry frowns, considering this thoughtfully, and he hands Sartorius his boxes back as they come up to his and Hayworth's quarters. "There'll be an article in the Prophet, tomorrow."
"Will people be angry? That you've republished old journals just for the sake of it?"
"Oh, undoubtedly," Sartorius says with a self-satisfied grin. "I'm rather looking forward to it."
---
"So, we've done these 9 locations," Hayworth says, pointing at the list she'd compiled of all the snakes and serpentine carvings throughout the castle, and Harry glances at them on her map, where each of them is crossed off with green ink. "And we've got six more to have a look at, plus any that come out of our Prophet interview." The interview had primarily been to answer questions as to what the two of them were finding at Hogwarts, and how the information would be distributed upon their finishing the project: at the end of the little article, there'd been a note asking for those who remembered particular snake insignia around Hogwarts to let them know.
"Professor Dumbledore is going to reiterate that message for us tonight," Sartorius says, and Harry nods his head. "These all do seem doable, Harry?"
"None of it's been hard for me," Harry admits. "All I do is hiss at a statue."
"Yes, well-" Sartorius stops short at the knock on the empty classroom's door, and he calls, "Come in!"
"Oh," Harry says as the door is pushed open, and he stares for a second before he says, "Hi, Mr Malfoy. You okay?" Malfoy casts a disparaging glance around the room, glaring at Sartorius and Hayworth before he turns to Harry and softens a little.
"I am indeed "okay", as you put it, Mr Potter," Malfoy says, offering a somewhat pleasant smile before he turns to meet Sartorius' gaze, and then his expression goes utterly cold once more. For someone so utterly concerned with his hair, the flawless nature of his son, and the birds he keeps (peacocks and doves, mostly, but he seems to love them as much as Hagrid loves monsters), Lucius Malfoy is extremely good at appearing utterly terrifying. "Lindon," he greets with a faux-warm smile.
"Lucius!" Sartorius responds, fake joy shining in his cold eyes and his tight smile. "Shall we converse outside?"
"Let's," Lucius agrees, and Sartorius closes the door behind him as they go outside to speak. Harry looks to Hayworth, but she's utterly silent, lips pressed together: she holds her left hand out lightly, as if ready to draw her wand at any time. Harry creeps up to the door, peering through the window in its surface, and he sees Lucius walk right into Sartorius' space, until they're barely two inches apart: once again, Harry curses his inability to read lips.
Lucius turns on his heel and leaves abruptly, and Sartorius gives a dramatic sigh as he enters the classroom. "Oh, he's angry, Cecilia. Isn't that shocking?"
It's not the actual publication of the books that Malfoy seems to mind, Harry finds later, when Sartorius and Hayworth begin to explain it. It's not that the money from their discovery will go to Hogwarts. The whole issue Malfoy and various other purebloods have with the publication is that they're being sold freely to whomever wants copies: they should be kept away from the hands of Muggleborns and kept only in the hands of those who deserve those pieces of history.
It's utterly insane, Harry thinks. But it's not the first bit of pureblood culture that's thrown him for a loop.
---
SARTORIUS SHAMED
Harry stares at the declaration in the Prophet's headline, and tries to ignore the whispers travelling quickly up and down the Slytherin table, from one person to the next. Harry's most recent letter is from Lucius Malfoy, quietly advising that he not take up with Sartorius' kind, lest he be similarly disgraced: Harry hasn't yet decided if Malfoy is showing honest concern, or if he's threatening him. Harry suspects that it's a mix of both.
The main photograph on the front page of the paper is of Sartorius leaning in to kiss a man with dirty blond hair, then drawing back laughing, and while the Prophet doesn't go into the sordid details, it assures the reader that Witch Weekly will in their further articles this weekend.
"Is it really such a big deal that he's gay?" Harry asks Blaise and Theo, and the both of them look at him blankly.
"Gay?" Blaise repeats, frowning and furrowing his brow, and Harry should have realized "gay" wouldn't translate into wizarding terminology - they hadn't used any particular word for it at all in the Prophet, after all. They'd just called it deviant. It's actually pretty much the same to how the Dursleys talk about gay people at home, and Harry's struck by the uncomfortable similarities between purebloods and the Dursleys.
"Uh, it's a Muggle word - is it such a big deal that he's attracted to men, I mean?" Theo scoffs as Blaise lets out a low sound of comprehension, and Theo gives a sharp shake of his head.
"It's not illegal, but it's certainly something to be approached behind closed doors. For purebloods especially - one can hardly continue one's bloodline if one takes up with another man."
"It's a fetish," Draco says, spitting out the word like it's poison, "People like that should keep it to themselves."
"Right," Harry says lowly, sipping at his tea and forcing himself not to say anything more as he stares into the middle distance, pressing his knees together under the table and going stiff in his place. "Right."
---
"Are you okay, Mr Sartorius?" Harry asks the man when he sees him the next morning in the corridor, and he seems to find the question utterly hilarious: he throws back his head and begins to laugh before he stops himself, looking down at Harry with apparent affection on his features.
"Do call me Lindon, Harry," he says airily, "And I should think you might call Cecilia by her given name at this point." He doesn't answer the question, and Harry doesn't bother to try and press any more. For Valentine's Day, there are bright, pink ribbons and balloons all around the great hall, and to Harry's horror, there are little gnomes rushing about the room, pushing cards and gifts into the hands of students.
Colin Creevey seems to be doing his best to photograph the room from every angle, and when a gnome pushes a Valentine's Day card into Harry's hands, he sees the camera flash from the corner of his eye, and he snaps at Colin to leave him alone for a bit. The first year, though, is already quite distracted.
Holding a gigantic, anatomically-correct heart made of paper above their heads, the twins stride into the room, and they drop to their knees in front of Sartorius, declaring, "Happy Valentine's Day, oh beloved historian!" Sartorius' pale cheeks go slightly pink as the twins tear the heart into two pieces, sending pink confetti and paper snakes flying into the air.
Sartorius laughs, and he leans down for the twins to pose with him for a photo: Fred and George each kiss him on one of his cheeks, and there are cheers from half of the students around as Colin's camera flashes: Harry catches Creevey by the shoulder, and murmurs, "I'll give you three Knuts for two copies of that picture, alright, Colin?"
"Alright, Harry!" Creevey says excitedly, and Harry grins at Fred when the older boy catches his eye.
---
"How're you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asks as they walk over the bridge together, their gaits slow and casual. She glances up and down the bridge for other students, finding it empty, and then says, "I'm sorry about what they said in the Prophet."
"I guess the magical world can't be perfect in all respects," Harry replies, and Hermione nods her head. She hesitates for a second, and then she puts her hand out towards him: he takes it, and they keep walking, hand in hand. "I'm not gay."
"I know," Hermione says, "I heard Malfoy teasing you about the photo of that pop singer you've got on your wall, in her underwear."
"She's not in her underwear," Harry protests, feeling a bit of colour come to his cheeks. "She's wearing a light robe."
"Practically naked, Malfoy said," Hermione says, and she squeezes his hand as come off the bridge and down into the grounds. There's a little snow scattered around in small, slushy piles, but for the most part it's all melted away, and the grounds are just damp rather than blanketed in white. "We're over halfway through the year, now. I'm sure you'll survive."
"Oh, don't say that," Harry mutters, "You'll only jinx it."
- 14
- 15
- 16
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The Serpent's Gaze, Book Two: Slytherin's Secrets