Flitwick quickly dispelled the curse on Ron, but the boy's face was crimson with humiliation. He didn't dare linger on the stage for even a second longer. With his head down, he bolted, fleeing the Great Hall altogether.
"Thank you, Professor. I'd like to challenge the next one—Harry Potter!" Malfoy's cold gray eyes locked on Harry, and he crooked a finger. "Potter, your dear friend Weasley collapsed after just one hit. Now it's your turn."
Harry's face darkened, but he stepped up without hesitation. Around them, the professors encouraged the other students to hurry and practice in pairs, but who could concentrate now? The real show was happening at center stage. Most students found their partners, but their eyes never left the duel platform.
Once the preliminaries were done, Professor Rouse raised his wand.
"Begin!"
Malfoy instantly cloaked himself in a shimmering Protego Totalum—the Shield Charm. He had been hammered relentlessly all week, and the beatings had paid off. By Wednesday, desperation and fury had forced him to master the spell. The days after that, he drilled himself nonstop, refining both speed and resilience of the barrier.
No one could tell how high his ceiling was—after all, the Malfoy family wasn't exactly known for producing magical prodigies. They were masters of scheming, not power. People with that kind of calculating ambition rarely reached true magical greatness. Still, for the moment, Malfoy had achieved something unusual for a second-year: he had crossed a line into magic far beyond his peers. Against Harry, it gave him a clear advantage.
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry wasn't naïve. He knew his chances of winning weren't good, but lying down and accepting defeat wasn't his style. The moment Rouse had demonstrated the Disarming Charm, Harry had felt a strange sense of familiarity with it—as though it fit perfectly in his hands. If Malfoy wasn't going to attack right away, then why not test this new spell?
Even Harry hadn't expected success. Yet with his very first try, a streak of crimson light shot from his wand, colliding with Malfoy's shield. The impact forced Malfoy back several steps, cracks spidering faintly across his barrier.
"It worked?" Harry's eyes widened with delight. He immediately tried to cast again—only this time his wand sputtered and gave a little puff of smoke. The second spell fizzled out. Malfoy exhaled in relief.
So it had been luck. Even if Potter did get a hit in, one spell wouldn't be enough to break through. The advantage was still his.
Smirking, Malfoy began to toy with Harry, tossing out hexes more to humiliate than to harm.
From the side, Tom shook his head. He'd seen enough. As long as Malfoy didn't do something idiotic, Harry had no chance in a formal duel like this. Watching was a waste of time. Even Professor McGonagall stopped paying attention—better to guide other students than watch Potter struggle against Malfoy.
But then—
A chorus of screams erupted from the spectators.
From the tip of Malfoy's wand exploded a burst of light. Out of it slithered a long, sinuous black serpent, landing with a heavy thud between the two boys.
Students shrieked and stumbled back, clearing a wide circle around the duel.
"Careful, Potter!" Malfoy laughed gleefully. "Wouldn't want to get eaten!" He savored the moment, prolonging it. Why end the duel quickly when he could watch Potter squirm?
Serpensortia. Malfoy had learned it over the summer, the most dangerous spell in his arsenal, and now—finally—it had a stage.
Under his command, the serpent's eyes locked only on Harry.
Yet Harry didn't flinch. Snakes had never frightened him. In fact, there was something oddly familiar, even comforting, about them. He remembered his childhood trips to the zoo—how he'd been drawn to that massive boa constrictor. But ever since meeting Malfoy and seeing the way Slytherins reveled in cruelty, that comfort had soured into distaste.
Still, Harry didn't know how to get rid of the conjured serpent. Instinctively, he shouted at it—
And to everyone else, it wasn't English that burst from his lips. It was a chilling hiss: "Sssstop!"
The black snake froze mid-strike, swaying uncertainly, caught between advancing and retreating.
Gasps filled the hall.
Professor Flitwick quickly raised his wand and banished the serpent into a puff of black smoke. "That will do, Mr. Malfoy. You've hogged this platform long enough. Let the others have their turn."
Malfoy scowled, glaring daggers at Harry as he left the stage. He hadn't expected things to turn this way. If he'd known, he never would have used that spell. Damn it—Potter was a Parseltongue. The very gift that should have made Malfoy shine had been twisted into a spotlight for his rival.
As Harry stepped down, the crowd parted like water, leaving him in a bubble of silence. Whispers followed him, their eyes wary, some even fearful.
"Harry! You're a Parselmouth?" Fred and George Weasley pounced on him, slinging arms over his shoulders.
"A what?" Harry blinked in confusion.
George grinned slyly. "Don't play dumb. You spoke to the snake. Everyone heard you."
"I don't even know what you're talking about!" Harry protested, exasperated. "And why is everyone acting like I've grown a second head? Does it have something to do with this Parsel-whatever?"
The twins exchanged a glance, realizing Harry was genuinely clueless. Lowering his voice, George explained, "You told that snake to stop, didn't you? That's Parseltongue—snake speech. It means you can talk to serpents, maybe even control them."
Fred whistled. "It's a rare ability. But here's the catch: most wizards who had it… were dark wizards. Almost all of them came from Slytherin."
Harry's stomach dropped. No wonder everyone was avoiding him.
"But I didn't even know I could do that!" he argued desperately.
"Doesn't change what we all heard." George shrugged. "You were hissing like a snake. Clear as day."
Fred thumped him on the back. "Cheer up! It's an awesome gift if you ask me. We'd kill for that. Next time we fancy roast snake, we'll count on you. Bet the Forbidden Forest is crawling with them."
They chuckled and wandered off, called away by a couple of Slytherins itching for their own duels.
On the other side of the hall, Tom had quietly opened his Learning Space, letting Ariana observe.
"See that, Ariana?" he said dryly. "Ninety-nine percent of the world is made up of ordinary people. Look at these Hogwarts students—weaklings, the lot of them."