The final weeks of the term before the Christmas holidays were a whirlwind of exams and festive preparations. My plan to investigate the Chamber of Secrets was put on a temporary hold. A solo expedition to a girls' bathroom in the middle of a school-wide panic was too risky, even for me. I needed the castle to be quieter, less populated, less observant. The upcoming holiday, when most students would be returning home, was the perfect window of opportunity.
In the meantime, I focused on my studies and my training. I dominated my final exams with ease, further cementing my reputation as a prodigy. My nightly sessions with Andros and Cadmus continued, the former honing my combat reflexes, the latter deepening my understanding of ancient magics. The book Dumbledore had given me was a treasure trove, and with every chapter I deciphered, my understanding of magic's fundamental nature grew, rewarding me with a steady stream of Study Points.
It was during the last week of term that Gilderoy Lockhart, in a desperate attempt to appear proactive about the ongoing "monster" situation, announced the formation of a Dueling Club. The first meeting was to be held in the Great Hall, with Lockhart himself, and a "special guest assistant," providing instruction.
The entire school turned out. The promise of seeing our flamboyant Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in action was too good to pass up. I went out of pure, morbid curiosity, with Daphne at my side.
Lockhart, preening in a set of ludicrously impractical plum-colored robes, leaped onto a large, golden stage erected in the center of the Hall. "Gather 'round, gather 'round!" he boomed. "Is everyone here? Excellent! In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to begin this little Dueling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works."
He flashed his signature, blindingly white smile. "And now, let me introduce my assistant professor!" he declared. "None other than our own Potions Master, Professor Snape!"
Snape emerged from the crowd, striding onto the stage, his black robes billowing behind him. His expression was one of pure, venomous loathing. It was clear he had been coerced into this. The students whispered excitedly; the rivalry between the two professors was legendary.
"Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry," Lockhart said with a breezy confidence. "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him, never fear!"
The two faced off. They bowed, and then, with a speed that shocked everyone, Snape struck. "Expelliarmus!"
Lockhart was blasted off his feet, his wand flying from his hand. He stumbled back up, flustered. "An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape," he said, trying to regain his composure. "But I was expecting you to go easy on me. A demonstration, that's all."
Snape's lip curled into a sneer. "Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students how to block an unfriendly spell, Professor," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He then suggested they pair up students to practice. What followed was a moment of pure, calculated malice. "Potter," Snape said, his eyes glinting. "Malfoy. Let's see what you can do."
The duel between Harry and Draco was a clumsy, pathetic affair. But it became legendary when Malfoy, in a desperate move, conjured a snake that lunged at the crowd. While Lockhart fumbled to deal with it, Harry Potter did something extraordinary. He walked towards the serpent and began to speak to it, a strange, hissing language pouring from his lips. The snake calmed instantly, its head bowing to him.
The hall fell into a stunned, horrified silence.
Harry Potter was a Parselmouth. The language of Salazar Slytherin. The language of the Dark Lord.
In that moment, the school's suspicion shifted. It had a new target. The Boy-Who-Lived was now the Heir of Slytherin.
I watched the scene unfold, my mind a whirlwind of calculations. This changed everything. Harry's public exposure as a Parselmouth provided me with the perfect cover. With the entire school now focused on him, my own quiet investigation into the Chamber would go completely unnoticed.
But it was what happened next that truly sealed my opportunity. Snape, seeing his chance to further humiliate Lockhart and test another student, called out a new name.
"Riddle!" he snapped. "You seem to be enjoying the show. Get up here. Let's see if you can do better than Potter."
All eyes turned to me. A challenge from Snape. A chance to duel in front of the entire school.
I walked onto the stage, my expression one of calm confidence. I faced Harry, who was still looking confused and frightened by what he had just done.
"Don't be afraid, Potter," I said, my voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear. "It's just a little friendly practice."
Snape began the countdown. "One... Two... Three!"
I didn't use an attack spell. I didn't need to. I used the[Voice of Command]skill Cadmus had taught me, imbued with a sliver of Parseltongue's hissing cadence. I didn't look at Harry. I looked at the snake, which was still coiled on the stage.
And in a low, almost inaudible hiss, I gave it a simple, one-word command.
"Sleep."
The snake, which had been poised to strike again, simply went limp. It collapsed into a harmless, inanimate coil on the golden stage.
The Great Hall was utterly silent. No one understood what I had done. It wasn't a spell they recognized. There was no flash of light, no incantation. To them, it looked as if I had simply stared at the snake and commanded it into submission with my sheer force of will.
Snape's jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack. Dumbledore, watching from the staff table, leaned forward, his twinkling eyes suddenly sharp and intensely focused. Lockhart was speechless.
And Harry Potter stared at me, his green eyes wide with a new, dawning emotion: not just suspicion, but awe.
I had just demonstrated a power no one in that hall could explain. I had taken all the suspicion directed at Harry and deflected it into pure, unadulterated mystery surrounding myself. The game had a new, unpredictable player. And I had just proven that my bite was far, far worse than my hiss.