Under the mounting pressure, Harry slipped into Parseltongue again—everyone in the Hope Nook knew that by now.
The snake froze at his hissing.
Snape stepped forward, flicked his wand, and the serpent dissolved into a wisp of black smoke.
He gave Harry a strange look, as if confirming something.
And Harry vaguely realized that people all around them were whispering in a dark, ominous way.
At that moment, he felt someone tug the back of his robes.
Sean pulled him behind his own back, and the susurrus of voices faded a little.
"Let's go, Harry."
Justin and Neville had appeared at some point, following Sean's gaze. Both of them looked worried.
"You forgot?" Ron said anxiously. "I told you not to show that off. Even in the wizarding world, making those weird sounds no one understands is not a good sign."
"What did I say?"
Harry saw Sean watching him leave, and noticed the uneasy expressions on his friends' faces.
"You spoke Parseltongue again!"
They didn't say it until they'd reached the empty Hope Nook.
"But I'm not Slytherin's heir—what does it matter?"
Harry protested.
"Harry, that's not how everyone else will see it."
Hermione sighed.
"Well, now the entire school will think you're his great-great-great-grand—whatever."
Ron added.
Harry went blank.
"I know what Parseltongue is. But 'Slytherin's heir'?"
Justin frowned now too. He and Neville hadn't been part of the Chamber business.
"Sean must have said nothing again, I knew it."
Hermione sounded helpless. She was beginning to suspect that even if Sean one day fought Voldemort alone, no one would know what actually happened—just like the basilisk: in their narrative, they'd only "stumbled across" it.
"I should have explained earlier. Here's what happened: on Halloween, Harry heard a strange voice—"
Hermione recounted it all, thinking again of that terrifying night.
Behind the daytime bustle of Hogwarts, there had been someone in the deep of night, sword in hand, facing down the basilisk.
Even now, her spine went cold. Voldemort had wanted the basilisk to attack them, but he'd clearly overlooked a terrifyingly strong little wizard.
Ten minutes later, it wasn't just Harry whose face had gone pale. Justin and Neville sat with him in silence, all three boys staring at the floor, lost in thought.
The Dueling Club wrapped up, and another rumor began to spread through the Great Hall.
The Chamber. Slytherin's heir.
Passing through the corridor, Sean could still hear the Hufflepuffs talking.
They had their heads bent together over a topic juicy enough to keep them packed tight.
"So, Ernie, you're sure it's Potter?"
A girl with a blond ponytail asked urgently.
"Hannah,"
the big boy said gravely, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a respectable wizard who could talk to snakes? Slytherin himself was called a Parselmouth."
"But Harry always seems so nice."
Hannah hesitated. "And—right—he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be that bad… can he?"
Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, and the Hufflepuffs leaned in even closer.
"Nobody knows how he survived when You-Know-Who attacked him. I mean, he was a baby at the time. He should've been blown to pieces. Only a truly powerful Dark wizard could survive a curse like that."
His voice dropped to barely more than a whisper.
"And maybe that's why You-Know-Who wanted him gone—he didn't want another Dark Lord rising to challenge him. Who knows what other powers Potter is hiding."
It was all very logical.
When it came to spreading rumors, Sean felt wizards had a natural talent.
Still, once the articles came out, the gossip would die down. Not worth worrying about.
Harry's Parseltongue reminded him of the basilisk again, so he headed for the Headmaster's office.
At the same time, another figure trudged by, weighed down with sorrow—Harry drifted all the way back to the Gryffindor common room without quite knowing how.
Before long, in the Headmaster's office—
Sean finally saw Dumbledore sitting behind his desk.
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, "we may soon need a new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Goodness, that position does get through staff quickly, doesn't it?"
"Professor Lockhart…"
Sean hadn't expected it to be this bad.
"Oh, not that one—yet." Dumbledore smiled mildly. "I'm talking about the next. Lies are always torn away eventually; false things never hold up for long."
His gaze seemed to pierce the room and land somewhere far away—on a little witch leafing through Lockhart's books.
"Sincerity, Mr. Green, is something people misplace very easily. I'm very glad to see you understand that."
Dumbledore said, with meaning.
Sean held his gaze. Dumbledore's smile paused for the briefest moment.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, you always—"
Sean didn't get the question out before Dumbledore smoothly changed the subject.
"Before we talk about any of that, we should wait a moment…"
He twitched a finger, and Sean realized he and the Headmaster had become invisible.
He looked up; someone was peering uncertainly through the half-open door.
Seeing the office empty, the boy slipped inside, crept around the desk, and carefully placed the battered hat on his head.
Sean turned back. Dumbledore was watching with gentle interest and had one finger pressed to his lips.
At the edge of the desk, the hat slid down over Harry's eyes, far too big for him.
"Oh. Yes. It's me,"
Sean heard Harry mutter in a muffled, embarrassed voice.
"Sorry—sorry, I… I wanted to ask—"
Sean knew he was talking to the Sorting Hat. A moment later, Harry grabbed the brim, tore it off angrily, and tossed it back on the shelf.
It slumped there, filthy and faded.
Harry stared at it, then backed away, leaving the office in an anxious rush.
"You were wrong!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I don't belong in Slytherin! I never will!"
The hat didn't stir.
Harry glared at it, retreated, and then was gone, his muttering echoing in the silent office:
"Parseltongue… cunning… strong-willed… a certain disregard for the rules—don't talk rubbish!"
Only when he'd left did Dumbledore drop the Disillusionment and beckon Sean closer, smiling.
"Do you have your answer now?"
"In the end," Sean said quietly, "the soul in the dark never really had a choice. Whatever guilt it carries, the true sinner is the one who made the darkness."
Outside, winter snow began to sweep across Hogwarts again.