The Legacy of Salazar

The Search for a Homicidal Snake

Something had happened.

Hermione glanced at the Slytherin table again, chewing her tongue, fork suspended above her untouched kippers. Normally, Merlin and Draco slept in on Sunday, meeting up with her later in the library. And yet, there they were, seated apart from the rest of their early rising classmates.

Merlin hadn't touched his breakfast either. He was deep in conversation with Draco, his eyes flickering towards their classmates and then up to the high table where Professor Snape was drinking pumpkin juice. As she watched them, Draco looked up and met her eyes. He said something to Merlin, and his blue gaze snapped to her as well.

Slowly, Merlin shifted his gaze toward the main entry hall before returning to her. Hermione stared at him, and after a second he repeated the moment, his head bending slightly toward the large doors. Figuring that meant he wanted a word, she nodded and as one they got to their feet.

She raised her eyebrow as they neared, though Draco shook his head with a meaningful look at Merlin and led the way out towards the grounds.

What was going on?

Thick dark grey clouds churned in the sky above, heavy with the promise of rain. Hermione shivered in the cool autumn breeze. If they were planning to take a stroll around the lake, she'd need to run back for her cloak. The pair of them stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around to face her.

The silence dragged.

"Well?" she demanded finally, rubbing her arms for warmth. "What's going on? Why couldn't we have talked inside?"

"Didn't want to risk being overheard," Draco said, and he looked around them.

Hermione felt a touch of impatience. "By all means, take your time," she said narrowing her eyes. "I'm not freezing or anything."

"Draco's just being overly cautious," Merlin said shaking his head. "Last night, as we were leaving the library I heard something. A voice—it said it was going to kill someone."

Hermione stared at him. "What?" she breathed, "Did you see who it was?"

"More like, what."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning now.

Merlin sighed. "I'm a Parselmouth," he said simply.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Her mind drew up a hundred different references to the language she'd gleaned from her readings, boiling it all down to a concise definition: The rare ability to understand and speak the language of snakes, commonly associated with dark magic due to the fact that most Parselmouths could track their lineage back to the most famous speaker, Salazar Slytherin himself.

Hermione looked from Draco to Merlin, and suddenly she understood why they'd dragged her out into the cold. But one thing at a time. She swallowed. "So," she said slowly, "You're telling me you think that there's a snake in the castle that's going to kill someone?"

Merlin nodded and Hermione felt her stomach clenched painfully. She glanced at Draco who was surveying her with a guarded expression, his grey eyes narrowed.

"What?" she asked, shortly.

"You know how important this is, don't you?" Draco said, folding his arms. "Don't go telling any of your Gryffindor friends that Merlin can speak Parseltongue."

"I know that!" Hermione snapped huffily. Hadn't she kept every other secret? "If anything," she added, "I'm worried you'll run off to tell your father!"

Draco's lip curled, but Merlin cleared his throat loudly before he could speak.

"Come on, you two," he said shaking his head. "Hermione's not going to tell anyone," and he smiled at her, "and neither are you," he added, nodding to Draco.