Clara Black and the Hidden Chamber

Parselmouths

A week later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were walking across the entrance hall when we saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. 

Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned us over, looking excited. 

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. 

"First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days. . . ."

"You reckon Slytherin's monster knows how to duel?" I scoff, but look at the flyer with interest. I think it could be fun. I turn back to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. 

"While I doubt it would do any good against Slytherin's beast, it couldn't hurt." I say. "We could use it later on."

The three of them agreed with me, so at eight o' clock that evening we hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was pure black and most of the school seemed to be packed underneath it, all carrying wands and looking excited. 

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as we shuffle through the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young-maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not-" Harry started but ended on a groan: Lockhart, wearing deep plum robes, and accompanied by Snape, wearing his usual black. Actually, I don't think he wears anything but black. 

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

No, not excellent. Not in the slightest. Let me out of here!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions-for full details, see my published works. 

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape-" said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. God, I hate him. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry-you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered.

"It's more likely that Snape will finish Lockhart off," I mutter. "And I hope to God Snape does."

Snape's upper lip was curling. It is a testament to Lockhart's stupidity because Lockhart was still standing there, smiling. My wish just might come true. 

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape barely inclined his head. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. 

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the dead silent crowd. I cross my fingers; please, please finish each other off. It would make my life so much easier.  "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth, like me.

"One-two-three-"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointing them at their opponents; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was knocked off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. Malfoy, a few other Slytherins, Emma(Who I didn't know was here), and I cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.