Chamber of Slytherin

Lydia boarded the train on September 1st and joined her fellow Slytherins in the back compartment. They were in the middle of a discussion about what their second year at Hogwarts would be like. She greeted each of them and Pansy grabbed her arm and pulled her into a seat so hard she thought she might get whiplash. 

“How was the rest of your summer?” Pansy asked.

“It was good, I spent most of my time reading or playing quidditch.” Lydia replied.

Theo looked at her slyly. “Are you enjoying your new owl?” Then shot a glance at Draco.

“Yes, I named her Athena. After the goddess of wisdom and war,” she smiled sweetly.

Theo smirked. “Athena, huh? Does that mean your owl is going to spend all her time attacking those you hate?”

She laughed. “She better, maybe I’ll train her to go after you.”

Draco, who had been silent until now, piped in. “Please. If she had any real sense, she’d go after Potter first.”

Theo chuckled. “Jealous that Lydia’s owl might have better aim than you?”

“Hardly. But if she’s as smart as Lydia claims, she’ll know exactly who the real threats are.”

“Right, because an owl is going to help you win your personal feud with Harry.” Lydia said as she rolled her eyes. He was ridiculous.

“I did buy her, she might have some loyalty to me.” He said, looking at her mockingly.

“Hardly, she loves me and only me.” Lydia said with a grin on her face.

—

She entered the Great Hall and sat down in her usual seat next to Pansy. The room was as beautiful as ever with the night sky and candles floating above them. She looked over at the Gryffindors and saw that Harry and Ron were not there. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen them on the train either. Weird . She made eye contact with Hermione who just shrugged in confusion. She waited impatiently as the feast carried on. What were they playing at? When the golden plates were wiped clean, she slipped away from the Slytherin table and made her way toward the staff table. She approached Professor Snape.

“Miss Prewett,” he drawled, folding his arms. “What is it?”

“Professor, I couldn’t help but notice that Potter and Weasley aren’t here,” she said politely, with a purposeful hint of distaste when she spoke their names.

Snape’s lip curled in something between amusement and disdain. “Ah, yes. I imagine their absence is of great concern to the entire school.”

Lydia ignored the sarcasm. “What happened?”

“If you must know, Potter and Weasley decided that arriving at Hogwarts by conventional means was beneath them. They stole a flying car, crashed it into the Whomping Willow, and have already managed to set a record for the fastest detention sentence issued on the first night.”

Lydia’s mouth parted slightly in shock. “A flying car?” Those idiots took the fucking car? Why didn’t they just get on the train? This was even more outlandish than their escapade to free Harry from the Dursley’s.

“The height of Gryffindor brilliance,” he kept an impassive face but she could see the disgust in his eyes.

“So where are they now?” she asked, regaining her composure.

“In my office,” Snape said. “Awaiting their well-deserved punishment.”

A laugh threatened to come out, but she swallowed it down, knowing Snape wouldn’t appreciate the humor in the situation.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said politely, stepping back.

Snape gave a curt nod, already turning his attention elsewhere. 

After the feast, she found them in a corridor. They seemed to be ashamed of their actions, at least Harry did. She questioned them on why they would do such a thing. “The barrier was closed,” said Ron, like obviously flying a car to Hogwarts was the reasonable option in a scenario such as this. “You didn’t think to—I don’t know—just wait for Aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur to come back?? Or send an owl?” Harry sheepishly told her no, they did not. “Use your brains, morons,” she hid her disgust from her face, and instead kept a straight face.

—

After weeks of deliberation, she decided it was time to go back to the secret room she had found. Waiting any longer was going to make her explode. It kept calling to her. It was infuriating. She nervously walked down the passageway, cut her palm and placed it onto the wall. The room looked the same as she remembered. Its high ceilings and vast array of tomes lining the shelves. She felt something pulling her towards a book on the left hand side.. Before she even realised, she tentatively withdrew it off the shelf. 

Chronicles of the Heir. 

She hesitated only for a moment before reaching out and opening it. As her eyes skimmed the first few lines, her heart pounded in her chest.

To the One Who Speaks the Ancient Tongue,

You have found what was hidden. The Chamber of Slytherin. You walk the path of the heir. 

The blood of Slytherin runs through your veins, and with it, the power to awaken what has long been forgotten. But beware—for knowledge is a double-edged sword, and what is learned cannot be unlearned.

Lydia swallowed hard, turning the page. More writing filled the book, histories of Salazar Slytherin, accounts of his early days at Hogwarts, notes on his ambitions, his falling out with the other founders. There, scrawled in smaller, untidy handwriting, a personal entry.

I leave these words for the heir who may come after. If you have found this place, then you already know you are not like the others. You are meant for more. But the path of Slytherin is not without peril. There are those who seek to use our gifts for their own ends. They will twist our legacy into something dark, something dangerous. Beware those who claim to serve in my name, for not all who wear the serpent’s mark do so with honor.

Moving further along the shelves, Lydia found a book titled Legacies of the Dark Arts . This book was far darker than the last. As she flipped through its pages, she found descriptions of spells she’d never heard of, curses designed to inflict permanent damage and enchantments used to bind unwilling subjects. The final chapters detailed experiments and rituals in magical power.

Unable to stomach the depraved acts, she closed the book and reached for another. The Blood of Serpents . 

To those of the Purest Line,

Magic is not merely learned, but inherited. It is carved into the very essence of our blood, passed down through generations, strengthening with each heir who understands their place in our world. Those who fail to grasp this truth will fade into nothingness, while those who embrace it will rise above all others.

The Heirs of Slytherin have long carried a power that sets them apart. Unlike those who must wield wands to channel their abilities, the true heirs possess magic that can be spoken into existence, that can bind, control, and command. They are the last remnants of a time when magic was raw and unshackled.

Lydia flipped through more pages, past theories on wandless magic, notes on Salazar Slytherin’s earliest spells, before stopping at a chapter marked The Serpent’s Bond .

It is said that when two wielders of strong, complementary magic form a true bond, their power is no longer their own—it is shared. They will sense each other’s pain, their presence, their emotions. In times of great need, their magic may act of its own accord, seeking the other out, protecting them even at great cost. While the strongest of these bonds have historically occurred between two heirs of Slytherin’s line, it is not exclusive to them. The power of the bond can be forged between an heir and another of pure and ancient lineage, provided their magic is deeply attuned and their commitment to the bond absolute. The greater the magical strength of both individuals, the stronger and more unbreakable the connection becomes. This bond will also block attempts from even the most skilled legilimens to penetrate their minds. Though this may be appealing, the fusion of power, once complete, cannot be severed without dire consequences.

She stared at the page, in shock that a ritual like this existed. What are legilimens? Penetrate the mind? Could people read minds? She searched the book and found the material she was looking for. 

Legilimency is the magical ability to penetrate another person’s mind, allowing the caster to sense emotions, memories, and even hidden thoughts. Skilled Legilimens can extract information without the target realizing it, while the most powerful practitioners can forcibly navigate a person's mind with precision. The counter to Legilimency is Occlumency, a discipline that enables a witch or wizard to shield their thoughts and emotions from intrusion. 

Occlumency and Legilimency would be useful skills to have in her repertoire.

She walked through a door into the hallway that was straight across from the entrance to the library. To the right was a drawing room that had pristine leather couches, a bar, and a fireplace. The room next to it was a potions chamber, filled with all the materials and ingredients she could ever need. The room next to that one was a greenhouse, which held various types of plants that flourished in the dark. Across from the drawing room was a half bath. Next to it was a large bedroom with ornate furniture. Inside of the bedroom there was a door to a much larger full bath. The bathroom had another door towards the back, which contained a secret vault. The room next to the bedroom was an altar room, and the one next to it was a summoning chamber. The back held a large training room. The potions chamber, altar room, summoning chamber, and training room contained books that could be put to use in each of those particular spaces.

Lydia was in awe of the extensiveness of the chamber and what each room held. She also appreciated the extra level of security, one had to say “ open ” in parseltongue to open each door. The only exceptions were the bathrooms and the drawing room.

—

She hadn’t expected to grow closer to Draco this year. Maybe she had softened to him after he bought her Athena. Maybe it was the way they ended up partners in Potions more often than not. They spent more time in the common room together, discussing their lives, interests, dislikes. She learned that Draco hated the summer heat, and loved the way the manor smelled after it rained. That he thought Quidditch was more about strategy than skill, though he would never admit that in front of Flint. She enjoyed his company and the small quirks he tried to hide. He was equally as driven as her in their class work and they studied together multiple nights a week. She now considered him to be a good friend, despite how cruel he could be to others. His cruelty didn’t bother her, she knew it was a mask he put out to the world, not that most people saw it that way. The boy truly cared deeply for others. Even if that was a small pool of people. 

One Saturday she went down to the quidditch pitch with Ron and Hermione to watch Harry play. She didn’t necessarily desire watching him play quidditch. He was quite skilled however. A fact Lydia loved to point out to Draco whenever he pissed her off.

As the Gryffindor team was leaving the locker room, the Slytherin team made a beeline for them. Understanding this would not be pretty they walked over to see what was going on. Lydia thought it would be amusing.

“What’s happening?” Ron asked Harry. “Why aren’t you playing? And what’s he doing here?” 

He was looking at Draco, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes. Draco smugly let them know that he was the new seeker and bragged about the new brooms his father bought the team, Nimbus 2001’s. They were sleek and shiny. She would kill to have one. Of course, Draco insulted the Gryffindors old and cheap broomsticks. He was correct in his assertion of them looking like falling apart twigs. 

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” said Hermione sharply. “ They got in on pure talent.”

She looked over at Draco and knew that despite his hard exterior, he was hurt. He didn’t buy his way onto the team. The brooms were a present after the fact. Hermione didn’t know shit. 

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat with such venom that even Lydia was shocked.

Her eyes went back and forth between the two like a tennis match. It was honestly hilarious how offended Draco was. 

Ron pulled out his wand and tried to hex Draco. It backfired and shot out of the wrong end of his wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass. He immediately started puking up slugs. She had to stifle a laugh.

Draco and the rest of the Slytherin team were uncontrollably laughing. He even fell to the ground in his amusement, wiping tears of joy from his eyes. It took all of her control to muster an impassive face. 

—

After the Halloween feast, the Slytherins went back to the dungeons to discuss Mrs. Norris’ petrification and the writing on the wall. She was perplexed as to who had done it. Another chamber? The heir? The only other living heir was Tom Riddle, and he was in his 60’s. And petrification? She would need to return to the chamber and research.

"Alright," Draco drawled, looking at the gathered group, "who wants to take a guess at what’s going on?"

"The Chamber of Secrets obviously. The writing on the wall wasn’t exactly subtle." said Daphne sarcastically.

"The Chamber is a myth," Theo countered. "Even if it was real, the entrance was supposedly lost centuries ago."

"Maybe," Blaise mused, "but someone obviously thinks it’s real enough to start scrawling threats in blood."

"Filch’s mangy cat being petrified isn’t exactly proof of some ancient monster lurking in the castle," said Pansy.

"It’s still strange," Lydia spoke up. "The way Mrs. Norris was lying there, it couldn’t just be a student messing around to piss off Filch.”

"If it’s real, then the question is, who’s the Heir of Slytherin?" Asked Draco.

The room fell into silence for a brief moment.

"There’s no proof there even is an heir," Theo pointed out, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. 

Her stomach turned. She was the heir. But she wasn’t behind this. The rest of night consisted of them arguing back and forth on who could be the heir and how the cat got petrified. Bored of the conversation, Lydia bid them farewell and went to bed.

—

The next day she went to the chamber to research the Chamber of Secrets. 

Flipping through the pages of an ancient tome, she found passages about Godric Gryffindor’s legendary duels, Rowena Ravenclaw’s studies on magical theory, and Helga Hufflepuff’s notes on enchanted creatures.When she looked at Salazar Slytherin’s section she read…

"The others are blinded by sentiment. They would welcome weakness into these halls, and they do not see the consequences of their folly. I have built a safeguard—a legacy, hidden beneath their very feet. The basilisk wakes only at the call of the heir. It moves unseen through the veins of this castle, awaiting the voice that will command it. Its gaze brings death, its fangs drip with venom beyond cure."

A basilisk? It made sense, of course. But how could a giant snake move unseen? She shook her head and placed the book back on its shelf. She wanted to let it go and not worry about it, but her curiosity was palpable. Wanting to forget about the Chamber of Secrets, she looked for another book to fill her mind. Grasping a book with a faded cover she realized it was actually a journal. Her eyes scanned the delicate handwriting and a few sentences popped out to her.

"The old ways are dying. Wandlore has tamed us, binding us to structured incantations, limiting what we are capable of.”

"A witch in battle once called lightning from the sky with nothing but a scream."

"Magic was never meant to be confined. It is a force, a living thing that pulses beneath our skin, weaves itself into our souls."

"They erased it from history. The Ministry will not speak of it. The professors will not teach it. They say it was never real. But it was. I have seen it. I have felt it."

Lydia couldn’t help but feel an eagerness inside her. The intellectual part of her knew that the way they were taught in school was the correct way, but a deep part of her wanted to expand her magic to its fullest potential. 

She spent the next few hours researching and composing her goals. Her top priorities were occlumency, wandless magic, and apparition. They weren’t allowed to learn how to apparate until 6th year, so she would have to figure it out herself. Hermione had mentioned that it wasn’t possible to apparate inside Hogwarts. The chamber however, allowed its heirs to apparate inside of its quarters. She would train and become the youngest witch or wizard in history to apparate. 

—

The hospital wing was nearly empty when checked on Harry. The bludger had hit him hard and she knew it was expected of her to visit him. He was awake and smiled when he saw her.

She sat down on the chair beside him, looking him over. “You look alright, considering. Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “A bit. Madam Pomfrey fixed most of it. I’ll be able to leave soon.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She was glad, surprisingly. The boy was growing on her, she found herself enjoying his company more often than not.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before his expression turned more serious. “Did you hear what happened?”

Lydia frowned. “What do you mean?”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Colin Creevey was petrified last night.”

“What??” A person was petrified now? And he was a muggleborn. That detail didn’t slip past her. The developments of the situation interested her. Although Creevey was an afterthought, he was a nuisance always running about with that camera of his.

Harry nodded. “Madam Pomfrey found him. His camera was clutched in his hands, but whatever he saw… It destroyed the film. There was nothing left of it.”

“Who do you think did it?” She asked him.

“I bet it’s Malfoy. Has he said anything to you?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not him, he’s as determined as you to figure out who's doing it.” Merlin, how thick could he get.

“Doesn’t want someone else taking all the glory from Slytherin?” He grimaced with disgust.

“Harry. I don’t think whoever is doing this will get any glory. Most likely expulsion if not Azkaban.”

“I suppose.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, you look kind of handsome when you’re all beat up.” He didn’t. He looked—well—beat up. She preferred someone more refined, impeccable.

Harry grinned despite himself, shifting slightly against the pillows. “Well, I’ll have to make sure to get hit by rogue Bludgers more often, then.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, taking his hand in hers. “Don’t you dare. You barely dodged that one.”

He looked down at where their fingers interlaced. “I really care about you Lyd.”

“I care—” She started when Madam Pomfrey came over.

They quickly pulled their hands back to themselves. 

“You may leave Mr.Potter.” She said, looking at them curiously.

Lydia forced Harry to let her walk him back to Gryffindor tower this time. They walked hand in hand, and she couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his palm against hers, even if she only saw him as a sort-of friend. Neither of them moved right away when they reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Finally, Harry gave her hand a small squeeze before pulling her into a hug. It was nice, she supposed, and she rested her head against his shoulder as his arms wrapped securely around her. When they finally pulled apart, Harry’s hands lingered on her arms for a moment before he stepped back, his expression soft. She gave him a small smile before turning to leave.

—

Dear Bill,

This year has already been more complicated than I expected. I never thought I’d grow close to Draco, but somehow, I did. We spend a lot of time together, study together, and I’ve started to see a different side of him. He’s still on about blood purity and Ron hates that I even look in his direction.

You’ve probably heard, but the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. It’s not just a rumor—a muggleborn named Creevey and Mrs. Norris were petrified, and someone wrote a message in blood on the walls. The Slytherins are divided—some think it’s a joke, others believe it’s real. Draco, of course, is convinced whoever’s behind it is doing the right thing. I’ve been researching, and what I’ve found isn’t good. If the legends are true, the monster inside the Chamber is a basilisk. You have to believe that I have nothing to do with it.

Write back soon.

Love,

Lydia

—

The next night, Pansy cornered Lydia before bed, blocking her path before she could slip away behind her curtains. “Guess what I heard?”

“What?” she asked, not particularly interested in whatever gossip Pansy had dug up.

“I heard you and Potter were seen holding hands through the castle. And hugging outside Gryffindor Tower.”

Lydia froze for just a second, then rolled her eyes.

“Ohhh,” she crossed her arms in satisfaction. “So it is true.”

Lydia sighed. “Yes it’s true. What about it?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to hear what you had to say. So are you two like together now??” She asked excitedly, jumping onto Lydia's bed. 

As if she would want to be with Potter. She would, however, date him to be trusted by Dumbledore. “I don’t know, we didn’t talk about it, it just happened.”

Pansy grabbed her shoulders and stared directly in her eyes. “I hate that it’s Potter.” She sighed, shook her head, and continued, “But, I want you to be happy so I will begrudgingly accept it and be the amazing friend you know I am.” as she put out her best demonstration of arrogance. “You need to talk to him about it.”

—

The next morning, she exhaled a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized she’d kept pent up, when she saw Bill’s owl flying into the Great Hall that Monday. 

Lyd,

You don’t have to convince me—I know you had nothing to do with this. But you need to be careful. Fear makes people reckless, and Slytherin is already under suspicion. If things get worse, they’ll start pointing fingers at anyone even remotely connected to the Chamber. Make sure no one knows anything about your history. You don’t want to be anywhere near the fallout.

If you’re right about the monster being a basilisk, then this is more than just school politics. A creature like that doesn’t just petrify people—it kills them. The only reason no one’s died yet is pure luck, or maybe something else is stopping it from going that far. But if it really is a basilisk, then someone is controlling it, and that means they know exactly what they’re doing.

As for Draco… I didn’t expect you to get close to him. You’ve always looked out for yourself first, and I respect that. If keeping him close is useful to you, fine. But be smart. He talks like he admires what’s happening, but if he knew what he was really dealing with, would he still feel that way? If this gets worse, he could end up on the wrong side of it—and anyone standing too close to him might, too. Just make sure that when the time comes, you aren’t.

Write back soon.

Bill

She was glad that Bill believed her. He was the one person she told, and couldn’t imagine him abandoning her. It infuriated her that this was a weakness of hers. Caring what someone thought of her. He was right, of course. If Slytherin was going to take the blame for what was happening, she needed to be careful. She had seen the way people whispered, the way Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs sent wary glances toward the Slytherins, expecting to be petrified just from looking their way. It was understandable for the muggleborns to feel that way, but the purebloods? Obviously the whole point was to rid the school of muggleborns. Not that some of those from pureblood families didn’t deserve a petrification. Only because they were bothersome. 

—

Allotting a majority of her time with Harry had become a common occurrence. He brought her comfort. They would spend hours talking and flirting in empty classrooms. Walking hand in hand down the corridors. They didn't announce their relationship. But people knew immediately by the ever fast gossip mill that plagued the school. She made sure to support him before his quidditch matches. Always cheering him on. It pushed back her progress with her extracurricular activities, specifically wandless magic and apparition. Occlumency was going well, at least she believed, no one had ever tried to infiltrate her mind. She practiced meditation techniques, sectioning off her brain, and it helped control her emotions. Apparating still seemed impossible, and although she couldn't do much with wandless magic, she was now capable of moving objects a few feet with her mind. She decided to see if she could still hold concentration in a room full of people. As Professor Lockhart was setting up for class, she successfully made Ron’s textbook fall off his desk. Her next goal was to make objects levitate. Essentially Wingardium Leviosa , but with her mind.

After Harry and Draco’s duel, the school had shunned Harry for speaking parseltongue. She had been there to witness it, and was shocked, could he be the one opening the chamber? No way. He had too many morals to do something that insidious. Keeping her promise to herself and Bill, she didn’t reveal her own parseltongue abilities. How was he able to speak to snakes? He didn’t have any ancestry relating to Salazar. She combed through The Legacy of Salazar Slytherin but found nothing related to Harry or the Potter family. Harry, of course, had no clue as to why he was a parselmouth. It ate at her that she couldn't figure it out, and he was also on a mission to find out who the heir was. 

—

The Christmas Holidays approached quickly. The only Slytherins staying for break were her, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. She didn't like Crabbe and Goyle very much. They were idiots and followed Draco around like lost puppies. It was pathetic. One evening the three boys came into the common room and were acting strange. She couldn't pick up on what was going on but Crabbe and Goyle weren't themselves. Sitting on the sofa reading, they sat across from her while Draco plopped down beside her. He looked over at the book she was reading, The Mind’s Veil: Mastering Occlumency and the Art of Mental Defense . 

“Reading up on Occlumency are we? What secrets are you trying to keep hidden? He elbowed her and she scowled. 

“No secrets, just want to understand the field,” she said haughtily.

Draco proceeded to make small talk with her and complimented her long black hair. She was used to his flirty comments. Goyle for some reason looked frustrated while watching the interaction, while Crabbe kept shooting him furtive looks.

“I bet the Mudbloods are terrified now,” Draco was saying, leaning back like he had just delivered some grand piece of wisdom. “One by one, they’re dropping like flies. It’s about time someone cleaned up this school.”

Lydia didn’t even look up from her book. “Yes, because attacking a bunch of second years is so impressive.”

Draco shot her an exasperated look. “Oh, come off it. You can’t tell me you don’t find it the least bit funny.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, absolutely hilarious.”

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a look. “Do you know who’s doing it?” Goyle asked.

“I’ve already told you, I don't know. But my father says the Chamber was opened before—fifty years ago. A Mudblood died. My father won’t tell me who did it, but they got expelled,” Draco continued. “Surprised they weren’t sent to Azkaban. I, on the other hand, would have given them a reward.”

Lydia scoffed, finally glancing at him. “Yes, because that’s exactly what would happen, a reward.” She shook her head at him in exasperation.

“You’re always so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic?” She said with a look of amusement.

Goyle kept shifting in his seat, his hands clasped tightly together as if he was stopping himself from fidgeting. Every so often, he would glance at Crabbe, as if checking for confirmation before reacting. Crabbe, on the other hand, was unusually stiff.

“What is going on with you two? You look like someone replaced whatever’s in your skulls with an actual thought, and it’s struggling to survive.” She rolled her eyes. “Fucking idiots.”

Draco doubled over on the couch laughing. 

"You really are brilliant, you know that?" he said, shaking his head slightly, as if in awe. "Sharpest tongue in Slytherin. I couldn't be more proud."

She grinned at him. "It’s not exactly difficult when the targets are this slow."

Draco chuckled again, still watching her. "No, but you make it an art form, Lyd."

Crabbe and Goyle stood up abruptly and ran out of the room.

“Okay, what the hell was that??” She asked, unable to comprehend what went on in those brains of theirs. 

—

The next morning, she sat with Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Since there weren't many people, she was able to do so without gawkers. Not that she cared much when the Great Hall was full. 

Harry was unusually quiet, picking at his toast, and Ron was worse—tense, shifting in his seat like he couldn’t get comfortable. They weren’t even really looking at her, their eyes were darting around the hall, as if they expected something to happen.

“Alright, what’s with you two?” She snapped.

Harry glanced at her, then quickly looked away. “Nothing.”

Ron let out a short, awkward laugh. “Yeah, we’re just—uh—tired.”

Tired? That was an excuse, but a bad one. Ron looked like he’d been caught sneaking a dragon out of the castle, and Harry was acting like he had just received life changing news but was incapable of telling anyone.

“You two are acting weird,” she said, her voice a little softer now.

Harry shook his head, stuffing a bite of toast into his mouth like that would stop her from questioning him further. Ron, however, wasn’t as composed. He ran a hand through his hair then stiffened, looking slightly panicked. Harry wasn’t looking at her, he hadn’t really looked at her at all since she sat down. Usually, he was chatting her up and giving her all his attention. Why was he acting so strange? She had been perfect around them. Insulting Draco with them, entertaining their foolish mischief, acting like she was falling head over heels for Harry.

“Did I… do something?”

That got Harry’s attention. His head snapped up, eyes wide. “No! Of course not.”

Ron nodded too quickly. “Yeah! No! You’re—uh—you’re great. Perfectly normal.”

Liars. As they walked out of the Great Hall she yanked Harry away from Ron into an alcove. She couldn't stand him acting like this. It infuriated her to be kept out of the loop.

“Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Harry wouldn’t meet her eyes, shifting uncomfortably under her stare.

“Obviously, there’s something. I’ll figure it out sooner or later, so just tell me.” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now.

Harry hesitated, but finally relented. “Fine. You know last night?”

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “What about last night?”

“Ron and I used Polyjuice Potion to be Crabbe and Goyle. That was us you were talking to in the common room.”

She froze. “What!?” A rush of anger, confusion, and amusement fought for dominance in her mind. “How in Merlin’s name did you even get Polyjuice Potion? And why did you sneak into the common room as Crabbe and Goyle?”

“We wanted to figure out if Malfoy knew anything. Obviously, he didn’t. The only information we got was that he’s still on about his blood purist bullshit and you didn’t seem to mind.” His green eyes flickered with something close to disappointment.

Lydia barely let herself react, instead tilting her head slightly. “That’s what this is about? You’re mad because I didn’t argue with him?”

Harry exhaled sharply, looking frustrated. “I’m not mad. I just—why didn’t you?”

Lydia took a slow step closer to him, keeping her expression neutral. “Oh, sure, because calling him out in front of Crabbe and Goyle—who I thought were actually them—would’ve been such a brilliant strategy. What was I supposed to do, Harry? Give him some noble speech about morality?” She let out a small, exasperated sigh.

Harry looked unconvinced. “It just didn’t seem like enough.”

She softened her voice just slightly. “You don’t understand, do you?”

He frowned. “Then explain it to me.”

Lydia let a small silence stretch between them before she spoke, watching him carefully. “Draco isn’t like you, Harry. You think that if you just show someone the right way, they’ll change. But people like him? They don’t change from being shouted at. They change when they want to, and only when they don’t feel like they’re being forced.”

Harry still looked wary, so she took another approach.

“You’re a hero, Harry.” Her voice was softer now, more thoughtful. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over his wrist. “You don’t play games. You don’t think about strategy. You just… do the right thing, because it’s who you are.”

She let out a quiet, almost sad laugh. “I wish I could be like that.” No, she did not wish she could be like that .

His expression wavered. “You’re—”

She cut him off gently. “But I can’t be like you. I have to be careful, I have to think ahead. If I argued with him every time he said something awful, he’d stop listening to me altogether. But if I let things slide until the right moment, until he’s actually questioning something? Then maybe he’ll start thinking differently.”

She let her gaze drop for just a moment before looking back up at him through her lashes. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Harry hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

She gave him a small, almost relieved smile. “Good. Because I only ever want what’s best for you.”

He exhaled slowly, tension melting from his shoulders. “I’m sorry about sneaking into your common room.”

Lydia chuckled, letting the moment shift. “You should be. Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to find out I had a whole conversation with you while you were Goyle?”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah, let’s… not think about that.”

She laughed lightly, looping her arm through his. “Agreed.”

And just like that, she had him exactly where she wanted.

—

Seeing as the ability to speak to snakes was such a huge topic of discussion as of late, Lydia decided it would be a good time to research. She traced her fingers along the spine of an old, cracked book, its cover dark green and embossed with a silver serpent. The title was in Parseltongue, a script that twisted unnaturally, almost alive.

"The Serpent’s Will: The Lost Arts of Parseltongue Magic."

She exhaled slowly, lifting the book from the shelf and carrying it to sit at the table in the middle of the library.

"To speak the language is to wield the power. But to command the will of the Serpent, one must become more than just a speaker—one must become the master of its magic."

Lydia leaned forward, turning the page carefully. The next chapter detailed the origins of Parseltongue Magic, describing it not as a mere ability, but as an ancient form of spellcasting predating wands. 

Different types of Parseltongue magic were listed:

Serpent Warding: Used to place invisible barriers that repel certain people or creatures.

Venomous Speech: Words spoken in this form can weaken, poison, or curse an enemy.

The Call of the Basilisk: A lost magic, rumored to summon ancient, hidden serpents of great power. This must be how the Chamber of Secrets worked, she thought.

Echoing Tongue: A form of spellcasting that lingers in the air, affecting those who hear it even after the words have stopped.

Binding Commands: A Parseltongue speaker can issue commands that compel serpents—or even people with weak minds—to obey.

She swallowed hard and continued reading.

"The first lesson is one of command. To wield the magic of Parseltongue, one must not only speak it but believe in it. A whisper holds no power. A master of the Serpent’s Will does not ask. They declare. They dominate."

"Begin with a simple invocation—call a serpent to you. If your will is strong, it will come. If you falter, it will not obey."

She knew how to speak to snakes—but summon them? This was a lot, even for her. Still, there was only one way to know for sure. She took a breath before whispering:

"Come to me."

She heard a soft hiss. Turning, an engraved serpent on one of the pillars came to life. It was around 6 feet long, a red head, tail, and belly. The topside of it was black and had a blueish/white stripe on each side. She recognized it as a Blue Malayan Coral Snake, known for its venom that triggers paralysis and uncontrollable spasms in its victims. It slid towards her, head level with her chest. "Obey me," she said in Parseltongue, forcing authority into her voice. Not a request. A command. The snake paused, considering her. Then, slowly, it bowed its head. She reached out cautiously, fingers brushing against the smooth scales. The snake did not resist. Her magic hummed in response, a deep connection forming between her and the summoned creature.