Chapter 332: The Transgression
Under the crushing pressure of the moment, Harry had used Parseltongue. Everyone in the Room of Hope circle knew exactly what that meant.
The serpent had gone still at the sound of his hissing. Snape stepped forward, a single wave of his wand causing the snake to vanish into a wisp of black smoke. He had looked at Harry with an unreadable expression, as if confirming a dark suspicion.
Harry became vaguely aware of the ominous whispering breaking out all around him. Just then, he felt a firm tug on the back of his robes. Sean hauled him back, putting himself between Harry and the crowd until the voices began to fade.
"Let's go, Harry."
Justin and Neville appeared, following Sean's lead. Both looked deeply troubled.
"Have you forgotten? I told you not to let it out," Ron said frantically once they were clear of the Hall. "Even in the Wizarding World, being able to talk to things no one else understands isn't exactly good news."
"What did I even say?" Harry asked. He saw Sean watching him leave, his eyes filled with that familiar, calm depth.
"You spoke Parseltongue again!" Ron blurted out the moment they reached the empty sanctuary of the Room of Hope.
"But I'm not the Heir of Slytherin! What does it matter?" Harry argued.
"Harry, no one else is going to see it that way," Hermione sighed.
"Right. Now the whole school is going to think you're his great-great-great-grandson or something..." Ron added.
Harry stood frozen.
"I know what Parseltongue is, but... the Heir of Slytherin?" Justin frowned. Neither he nor Neville had been part of the actual mission into the Chamber.
"Sean definitely hasn't said a word to them, I knew it," Hermione said with a note of weary resignation. She suspected that even if Sean went out and dueled the Dark Lord himself one night, he'd probably show up to breakfast the next morning and act like nothing had happened. They had only found out about the Basilisk by accident.
"I should have explained sooner. It's like this: back on Halloween, Harry heard a strange voice..."
Hermione began to recount the events of that night. She shivered as she recalled the reality behind the castle's festive atmosphere—while they were enjoying the feast, someone had been standing in the dark with a silver sword, blocking a monster's path. Even now, the thought made her skin crawl. The Dark Lord had intended for that serpent to hunt them, but he had clearly overlooked a certain "second-year" wizard with a terrifyingly high combat rating.
Ten minutes later, Harry wasn't the only one looking pale. Justin and Neville sat beside him, their heads bowed in stunned silence, processing the weight of the secret.
The Duelling Club had been dismissed, but a new rumor was already catching fire in the Great Hall: the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin.
As Sean walked through the corridors, he could hear the Hufflepuffs whispering. A group of them were huddled together, debating the most interesting topic of the year.
"So, Ernie, are you certain it's Potter?" a girl with a blonde ponytail asked urgently.
"Hannah," the large boy said solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark Wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent wizard who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself 'Serpent-tongue'."
"But Harry always seems so friendly," Hannah whispered hesitantly. "And besides, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be that bad, can he?"
Ernie dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, and the other Hufflepuffs leaned in closer. "No one knows how he survived that night. I mean, he was just a baby. He should have been blown to bits. Only a really powerful Dark Wizard could escape a curse like that.
"That's probably why the Dark Lord wanted him dead in the first place. He didn't want another 'Dark Lord' rising up to compete with him. Who knows what other powers Potter is hiding from us?"
Logical enough, in a twisted sort of way, Sean thought. He knew wizards had a natural talent for spinning rumors. But once the news reports were published, the gossip would die down. He wasn't worried.
Harry's Parseltongue reminded Sean of the Basilisk again, so he made his way toward the Headmaster's office.
As he departed, he saw a dejected figure drifting through the hall—Harry looked like a ghost himself, wandering aimlessly toward Gryffindor Tower, barely aware of his surroundings.
The Headmaster's Office.
Sean finally found Professor Dumbledore in his usual seat.
"It seems we may soon be in need of another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dear me, we do seem to go through them quite quickly, don't we?" Dumbledore said, twinkling his eyes.
"Professor Lockhart...?" Sean hadn't expected the fallout to be that severe so soon.
"Oh, it isn't just today's events, but the ones to follow. A charade can only last so long; falsehoods eventually crumble under scrutiny," Dumbledore said with a peaceful smile. His gaze seemed to pierce through the walls of the office, landing on a young witch somewhere in the castle who was currently poring over one of Lockhart's books.
"Sincerity, Mr. Green, is a thing all too easily misplaced. I am glad to see you have grasped that."
Sean stared into his eyes. Dumbledore's smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
"Professor, were you...?"
Before Sean could finish the question, Dumbledore waved a hand. "Before we discuss anything else, we must wait..."
With a twitch of his fingers, Sean realized both he and the Headmaster had been Disillusioned. He looked toward the door and saw a figure peering curiously inside. Finding the room seemingly empty, the boy crept around the desk and picked up the Sorting Hat from its shelf, slowly pulling it onto his head.
Sean looked at Dumbledore. The Headmaster was watching with a kind expression, pressing a long, thin finger to his lips.
At the edge of the desk, the oversized hat slipped down, covering Harry's eyes.
"Oh... yes, it's me," Sean heard Harry mutter. "Oh—sorry to bother you—but I wanted to ask—"
Sean knew he was talking to the Hat. A moment later, Harry seized the brim and yanked it off his head in a fit of frustration. The hat hung limp and tattered in his hand.
"You're wrong!" Harry shouted at the empty air. "I don't belong in Slytherin! I never could!"
The hat didn't move. Harry stared at it for a moment, then backed away and hurried out of the office, looking more troubled than ever. His muttered words echoed in the silent room as he left:
"Parseltongue... resourceful... determination... a certain disregard for the rules... what absolute rubbish!"
Once the door had clicked shut, Dumbledore signaled for Sean to step forward.
"Have you found your answer yet?" the Headmaster asked with a small smile.
"Regardless of its nature, it never had a choice," Sean replied. "A soul in the darkness may be capable of sin, but the true sinner is the one who created the darkness in the first place."
Sean spoke as the winter snow began to swirl outside once more.
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