Ginny rose and went to the sofa where Harry had been sitting. She looked left and right, confirming no one was watching, then suddenly, with a blush, sat down. She mimicked Harry's posture, her hand caressing the sofa, feeling the faint warmth he had left behind.
"Hello, Harry," Ginny whispered to the empty cushion, a smile playing on her lips. She suddenly remembered Fred and George's wide-eyed expressions when Harry had shown them the Firebolt 2001 earlier.
"Hehe," Ginny couldn't help but giggle, but quickly straightened up. She heard footsteps approaching.
"Ginny? Why are you up so early?" Parvati came down the stairs, clutching a pile of parchment. "You're not secretly on a date with someone, are you?"
Ginny quickly stood up from the sofa, her face feeling incredibly hot. Parvati looked at Ginny skeptically, then plopped down beside her. "Why is your face so red? Did I actually guess right?"
"Of course not! I just couldn't sleep. You know, the Duelling Club is tonight, I'm just too excited," Ginny said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Then why is your face so red?" Parvati asked, still suspicious.
"It's just really warm by the fireplace. Your face would get red too if you sat here for a bit," Ginny replied, her expression unwavering. To prevent Parvati from asking more questions, Ginny quickly interjected, "Aren't you excited? It's the Duelling Club!"
"I wouldn't go to the Duelling Club if Lavender wasn't so insistent," Parvati shrugged, setting her parchment down. "By the way, have you found a partner yet?"
"Not yet," Ginny thought to herself, because the person I want to invite would never go with me.
"Then why did you refuse Neville's invitation? Honestly, I think he's quite nice," Parvati said, puzzled.
Ginny didn't want to answer that question. She walked to the window and pushed it open slightly. Ginny looked towards the Quidditch pitch, imagining Harry flying on his Firebolt 2001 – when he flew, his fringe would be swept back by the wind, his eyes as green as pickled toads, as dark and dashing as a blackboard...
"Do you think Quidditch practice will be dangerous in this kind of weather?" Ginny suddenly asked.
Hearing this, Parvati glanced out the window and shrugged. "Who knows, with all this fog? But do they ever care about the weather during practice? Last year, they practiced even when it was hailing, and Wood ended up breaking two ribs—"
"They'll be careful," Ginny interrupted her, her voice more firm than she'd expected. "Harry's quick, and Angelina is very steady."
Parvati blinked, then suddenly laughed and nudged Ginny's arm. "You've been staring out the window for ages. You weren't watching Harry, were you?"
Ginny's ears flared red. She grabbed a quill from the table and shoved it into Parvati's hand. "Go write your essay. You don't want Professor McGonagall to give you lines."
Parvati hugged Ginny. "Harry is handsome, especially since he's the Boy Who Lived. He's got money and good looks; what girl wouldn't like him? Honestly, I was quite infatuated with him for a while too."
Ginny wriggled out of Parvati's embrace, straightening her hair. "Were you? I think you're more infatuated with Lockhart now."
Parvati shrugged. "Can't help it, can I? Harry and Hermione are always together. I can't just pine away forever, can I? Besides, I'm not infatuated with Lockhart; I just like his books."
Ginny didn't reply and walked back to the window. The fog was thinning, revealing the outline of the stands at the edge of the pitch, and faint red figures moving – the Gryffindor team's robes. Parvati's voice seemed to come from a distance. "—I wouldn't advise you to accept Lockhart's tea invitation. Last time, he tried to grope me under the guise of taking a photo. Good thing I'm not Lavender, or he might have succeeded."
"Harry wouldn't do that," Ginny murmured.
Meanwhile, in the library, Hermione placed her satchel on a desk, then walked to the inquiries desk. Madam Pince was bent over, scratching away at a lending register with her quill.
"Madam Pince, is A Thousand Monstrous Serpents on the shelves?" Hermione placed her hand on the counter. "I'd like to learn about different types of snakes."
The moment Madam Pince looked up, Hermione felt as though she'd been seen right through. Hermione silently prayed that Madam Pince would help her, considering her diligent study habits over the years.
"A Thousand Monstrous Serpents? That book is in the Restricted Section. You know the rules – you need a signed permission slip from a professor, a very specific one, too." Madam Pince paused, tapping her finger on the register. "And even if you had permission, you couldn't borrow it now anyway."
"Why not?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"Headmaster Dumbledore just took it last night," Madam Pince said, closing the register with a click of its brass clasp.
Hermione's brows furrowed. Dumbledore suddenly taking A Thousand Monstrous Serpents, and then it appearing in Harry's hands. There had to be a connection she was unaware of.
"Are there any books about Parseltongue then?" Hermione continued to ask. "Even if they just mention a few words."
Madam Pince stared at her for a moment this time. "Why the sudden interest in Parseltongue?"
"Madam Pince, you know me; I love reading extra books," Hermione defended herself.
Madam Pince seemed convinced. She took out a booklist and looked at it for a while. "General Theory of Non-Human Languages, by a scholar who studies Mermish. It mentions Parseltongue in passing. That one's in the general shelving, Section B; no permission needed."
"And Origins of Magical Creature Languages, that one has more detailed records." Madam Pince said, closing the booklist. "These two books should keep you busy for a while."
Hermione thanked her, took the two books, and went back to her desk. Hermione decided to read General Theory of Non-Human Languages first, as it was very thin. Hermione opened the book. The section on Parseltongue was indeed very short: the author heavily criticized Parseltongue, calling it "completely different from human language structures, more akin to the low-frequency vibrations of reptiles," while enthusiastically promoting Mermish as the most beautiful language in the world.
Hermione's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. She flipped to the back, finally concluding that the book was completely useless. Hermione angrily closed General Theory of Non-Human Languages and picked up Origins of Magical Creature Languages to read.
The records in Origins of Magical Creature Languages were much more objective: Parseltongue is not a "learned language," but an inherent ability within the bloodline, often found among descendants of Salazar Slytherin... its pronunciation relies on special vocal cord vibration frequencies; ordinary people, even if they imitate the sounds, cannot truly communicate with snakes... historical records show that Parseltongue users are often associated with Dark Magic.
Hermione closed Origins of Magical Creature Languages in disgust. She felt this book was also full of prejudice. "That's absolute rubbish! Harry isn't a Dark wizard!"
Hermione decided to temporarily set aside Parseltongue and try a different approach to figure out why Dumbledore would give Harry A Thousand Monstrous Serpents. Hermione took a deep breath, deciding to review the events from the beginning.
Colin, Penelope Petrified – A Thousand Monstrous Serpents – Parseltongue – Slytherin
Hermione looked at the words in her notebook, irritably tugging at her hair. She couldn't find the connection between them.
Suddenly, Marietta Edgecombe beside her shrieked, "Cho, that's disgusting!"
Cho Chang quickly pulled Marietta, as Madam Pince was already looking their way. Once Madam Pince's gaze moved away, Cho whispered, "I bet someone brought them into Ravenclaw Tower, otherwise those spiders wouldn't be running everywhere..."
Cho's words flashed like lightning through Hermione's mind. She remembered seeing a similar record somewhere. Hermione rummaged through her satchel, then pulled out Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which Harry had given her.
Hermione quickly flipped to the Basilisk page: Herpo the Foul, a master of Dark magic, created the Basilisk, a Dark magical beast, using Parseltongue... Herpo hatched a chicken egg under a toad, ultimately producing the Basilisk... wherever Basilisks appear, spiders flee in terror...
Hermione immediately understood. There was a Basilisk in the castle.
At lunchtime, Hermione told Harry about her discovery. Harry was surprised by Hermione's quick wit, but still stubbornly retorted, "If it's a Basilisk, then why didn't Creevey and Penelope die?"
"Because Creevey saw the Basilisk through his camera, and Penelope saw it through a puddle of water on the floor, so they were only petrified," Hermione guessed, her voice rising with excitement.
Seeing Hermione getting more and more worked up, Harry reluctantly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shhh, keep it down."
"Mmmph, mmmph," Hermione pried Harry's hand away. "You knew all along? And you kept it from me?!"
Harry offered an embarrassed smile. "I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't tell."
"I seem to recall someone saying they wouldn't lie to me again?" Hermione said with a cold laugh.
"I didn't lie to you. I just selectively told you part of it," Harry argued.
"You!" Hermione was so angry she wanted to curse, but Harry quickly stuffed a chicken leg into her hand. Hermione bit into the chicken leg indignantly, deciding she wouldn't speak to Harry for the rest of the day.
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