The Hidden Hero

The summer dragged by slowly for Harry. As he suspected, he was welcomed back to both his busboy job at the restaurant as well as to his room at the boarding house. It was strange being an 18 year old now, as Harry had to age himself as soon as he left Kings Cross station.

Every few days, Harry would find a private place to turn back into his almost 12 year old self. However, no letters arrived for Mark Twist. Harry spent the majority of his free time reading his textbooks, but he was incredibly lonely. He marked September 1st on his calendar and, every morning, checked off another box in his countdown to the date that would see him back at Hogwarts.

Harry’s birthday came and went without any acknowledgement. No one knew that he turned 12 on July 31st. Harry had told his friends that his birthday was August 5, so that no one would wonder why Mark Twist had the same birthday as the still-missing Harry Potter.

On his fake birthday, Harry woke up feeling excited. He was sure that Ron and Hermione, at least, would send him a birthday card. Finding a private spot in a nearby park, Harry shrank from an 18 year old to a 12 year old. He waited impatiently and, sure enough, after about ½ hour, he saw an owl in the distance.

The young boy jumped up and down in excitement and waved his arms at the owl, signaling where he was. When it approached, the owl told Harry what he thought of such an undignified display, giving Harry a disgusted hoot. But, Harry ignored the owl, and impatiently untied the letter strapped to its leg. It was from Hermione! The simple birthday card made Harry’s heart soar. He was so focused on re-reading the card, he didn’t notice that two other owls had arrived until they started pecking impatiently at his arm.

Startled, Harry looked up from the card, and saw Ron’s family owl, Errol, and another unfamiliar owl. Opening the card from the owl he didn’t recognize first, Harry smiled at seeing Hagrid’s signature. The card wished him a happy birthday and told him to make sure that he visited the first weekend he returned to Hogwarts. Silently promising that he would do so, Harry turned to open the card held by Errol.

Hi, Mark. Hope you’re having a great birthday! Are you still up for a visit? If your parents say okay, how about you spend the last week of August with me? We’re going to Diagon Alley for our school books the Monday before school starts. Why not meet me there and you can return back to my house with my family and me? We can take you to the train on September 1.

Let me know. Happy birthday. – Ron

Harry smiled so widely, his jaw hurt. Hoping that he would need to respond to a letter, Harry had come prepared; he scribbled a note back to Ron using the quill and parchment he had hidden in his pocket.

That’s great! Can’t wait! My parents say okay. I’ll see you in Diagon Alley. I’ll be at Flourish and Blotts at noon. See you! – Mark

Watching the owl wing on its way with his return message, Harry thought gratefully of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Even though they had so many children of their own, and obviously didn’t have a lot of money to spare, they were still willing to allow Ron’s school friend to come for a visit. They had no way of knowing how much such a visit meant to him. Harry promised that he would be the ideal guest, helping with household chores, and being as polite as possible, so that they would allow him to visit often.

The week before school term started saw Harry at Flourish and Blotts, looking for the Weasley family. He had left his trunk at the Leaky Cauldron, where the innkeeper, Tom, had allowed him to store it for the day. Harry had spent a few hours visiting some other stores in Diagon Alley and replenishing his school supplies. The only task he still had to finish was to purchase his second year school books.

Harry saw the Weasley clan in the corner of the store, looking over their various book lists. As Harry approached the group, he noticed that Ron’s younger sister, Ginny, was also holding a book list. Harry suddenly recalled that this was Ginny’s first year at Hogwarts.

“Hello, everyone,” Harry called shyly. The Weasleys chorused a greeting and Ron hurried to Harry’s side, and thumped him hard in the back in greeting. Ginny turned a little red and whispered a shy “hi” back.

The group was distracted by a commotion at the back of the store, where a table was laid out. A store employee made an announcement that the book signing by Gilderoy Lockhart was about to begin. Harry recognized the name of the author of a number of the books on the assigned second year reading list.

Mrs. Weasley became a little flustered as she jockeyed for position on line to get her books signed. Ron muttered to Harry that Mrs. Weasley fancied Lockhart. Mrs. Weasley pretended not to hear him. Harry hid a smile.

As Mrs. Weasley waited for the line to move, and to have Lockhart sign their books, Harry and Ron stood off to the side and exchanged stories about their summer. Ginny stood silently next to Ron. When Harry asked Ginny whether she was looking forward to starting Hogwarts, she nodded her head, but didn’t say anything. Ron rolled his eyes. “She’s been talking about nothing else all summer. Don’t know why she’s so silent now,” he said. Ginny blushed but didn’t speak.

From behind him, Harry heard the hated drawl of Draco Malfoy. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Weasel and his sidekick, Twisted.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed and he turned bright red. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“Language, language, Weasel,” Draco drawled. “You should watch your mouth in front of your sister, even if she is a blood traitor like the rest of your family.”

Before Ron or Ginny could flare up, an aristocratic, blond haired man interrupted. It was clear from the resemblance that this was Draco’s father. “Now, now, Draco,” he said, indulgently. “Play nice. Ms. Weasley cannot help who her family is.”

In the shocked silence that followed Mr. Malfoy’s rudeness, Mr. Malfoy reached into Ginny’s cauldron where a few battered textbooks lay. “I see that your father cannot even purchase you new books. What a shame.”

Harry couldn’t stay silent any longer. “I think that Ginny is very lucky. While it is nice to have money, it is far more important for parents to be loving and kind. Not everyone is lucky enough to have such wonderful parents,” and he cast a meaningful look at Draco.

The not-so-subtle implication that the Weasleys were more desirable parents than he was did not sit well with Mr. Malfoy. He turned a cold look at Harry and said, “And you are?”

Harry responded reluctantly. “Mark Twist.”

“Oh, yes,” drawled the cold voice. “I’ve heard of you. Muggleborn.” He made the word sound as rude as “mudblood.”

Turning away as if he did not want to be contaminated, Mr. Malfoy called to his son. “Come, Draco. Let us go to Borgin & Burkes. The clientele there will be refreshing.”

Harry clenched his hands into fists and seethed. He knew that Ron and Ginny were equally angry, but they all held their tongues as Mrs. Weasley approached, bubbling from having met Mr. Lockhart and with the news that Lockhart was going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts for the coming year.

Seeing how happy she was, Harry was glad that neither she nor Mr. Weasley had overheard the exchange with the Malfoys.

“Thanks,” Ginny murmured to Harry as they moved to leave the store.

“Yeah,” said Ron.

“It was nothing,” Harry said. “I meant it.” He was warmed by the glow of their approving smiles.
“Let’s forget that prat,” said Ron. “We are going to have an awesome last week of summer.”

True to his prediction, the children had a wonderful end of summer. Harry could not remember ever being happier. He was surrounded by people who enjoyed his company and were kind to each other. He was living with a real family and enjoyed every dull routine or common moment that they permitted him to share.

Best of all, he played a down-and-dirty form of Quidditch with Ron, Ginny, George and Fred. Harry reveled in the freedom of flying. Ron and the twins begged him to reconsider joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, but Harry held firm to his decision to concentrate on studies. Fred and George kept badgering Harry so much that Mrs. Weasley finally had to intervene and tell the boys to leave their guest alone.

Harry was sorry when September 1st arrived. He would have loved to have stayed with the Weasleys forever. Harry thanked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for inviting him and, feeling greatly daring, even hinted that he would love to return the following summer.

Second year started calmly enough. Harry continued his studious habits and enjoyed the routine of classes. Unfortunately, Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bit of a joke. The new teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, was so full of himself. Harry was sure he was lying about all of the dark creatures he said he had captured or killed. The man was obviously incompetent. Harry was annoyed that it seemed as if this class would be a waste of time this year.

Harry noticed that Ginny didn’t seem to be enjoying her first year very much. He hoped that she wasn’t finding the class work too hard. She seemed stressed. He had gotten to know her a bit during the week he had spent at the Weasleys. She had become less shy and, at Hogwarts, always had a smile and a few words for him. Harry resolved that, if she continued to seem so unhappy in a few weeks, he would speak with her brothers about her.

One day, the school was thrown into turmoil by an attack on the caretaker’s cat, Mrs. Norris. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, was beside himself. However, Professor Dumbledore assured him that the cat was not dead, just petrified. The real worry was that no one knew who or what had petrified the cat. A message had been written in blood on the wall behind the petrified, hanging cat: “The Chamber Of Secrets Has Been Opened. Enemies Of The Heir, Beware”.

Hermione had bravely asked Professor Binns, their History of Magic ghost teacher, about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. After some convincing, Professor Binns had explained that one of the founders, Salazar Slytherin, had reputedly created a hidden chamber within Hogwarts where he had hidden a monster that would purge the school of muggleborns. After hearing that story, Harry, along with the rest of the school, could talk of little else. What a nutter this Slytherin was! Thank Merlin he hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin house!

As a result of the attack, Professor Lockhart had suggested a dueling club. While Harry had little faith that Lockhart would be able to teach the students anything, he had never seen a wizard’s duel and was curious to see how it worked. So, he found himself in the Great Hall along with most of the school, watching Professors Lockhart and Snape demonstrate a wizard’s duel. Harry hid a smile when Professor Snape shouted “Expelliarmus” and disarmed Lockhart so easily. Harry might not think Snape was very nice, but there was no denying that he was a brilliant wizard. Lockhart, on the other hand, was a git.

Not wanting to look like a fool again, Lockhart suggested that they use students for the next demonstration. Snape immediately suggested his favorite student, Draco. Lockhart’s eyes fell on Ron and he called him to the stage.

Harry jostled to the front of the crowd to watch his friend. He was worried that Draco might try something underhanded. He knew Draco well enough to know that he didn’t fight fair. Harry tightened his hand on his wand, ready to come to Ron’s aid if need be. At first, Draco and Ron just skirmished. They each threw jinxes at each other, causing the other to fall back or trip. However, after Ron hit Draco with a particularly well-placed jelly-legs jinx, Draco became enraged and yelled, “Serpensortia.”

A huge snake flew from the end of Draco’s wand. The crowd around Harry gasped and drew back from the stage. Ron turned pale and fell back a few steps as well. The snake slithered toward him and raised its head, preparing to strike. Without stopping to think, Harry yelled, “Stop! Get away from him!”

The snake immediately stopped its advance on Ron. It turned its head toward Harry, as if it understood what the boy had said. Slowly, the snake slithered toward Harry instead. Strangely, Harry felt no fear. It was as if there was a connection between the snake and him. He just knew (in a way he couldn’t explain) that the snake meant him no harm. It hissed, as it approached, “I will not hurt the man-child. I will do as you ask, Speaker of the Most Noble of Tongues.”

“Thank you. I…appreciate it. He is my friend.” The snake stopped in front of Harry. Slowly, the young boy reached out his hand to the snake. However, before he could touch it, he heard a murmur in the distance and the snake vanished. Harry looked up to see Professor Snape lowering his wand, and staring at Harry with surprise and calculation.

Harry’s eyes turned to Ron, to make sure that he was okay. Harry was taken aback by the almost scared look Ron was giving him. What was the matter? Ron jumped off the stage and grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him from the room. As they left, Harry noticed that the other students were silent, and staring at him strangely. As he moved past them, they all drew back from him in fear. What was going on?

Ron pulled Harry into the empty Gryffindor common room. Hermione had followed them and the door shut behind her. Before Harry could speak, Ron yelled, “How come you didn’t mention you can speak parseltongue?”

Harry was surprised at Ron’s attacking tone. “You mean being able to speak to the snake?” At Ron’s nod, he continued, “I didn’t know until just now. What’s the big deal? Aren’t you glad I could tell the snake to leave you alone?”
“Of course, I’m glad about that! But, you don’t realize…speaking parseltongue is the mark of a dark wizard. Salazar Slytherin could speak to snakes.”

Harry was dumbfounded. “S..s..surely,” he stuttered, “I’m not the only one here who can speak to snakes? There must be other wizards who can do it, too?”

Hermione spoke up at this. “No, Mark. Being a parselmouth is a very uncommon talent. Ron’s right. It was what Slytherin was known for.” Her pale face convinced Harry more than Ron’s words just how serious this was. Hermione, as a muggleborn, didn’t have the same wizarding prejudices as Ron had grown up believing. If she, too, was concerned that Harry could speak parseltongue, this was, indeed, a “big deal”.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione. “I’m not a dark wizard. I’m not!”

“We know that, mate!” agreed Ron. “But, the whole school’s going to think you’re Slytherin’s heir.”

“I’m not!”

“Salazar Slytherin lived a thousand years ago. For all we know, you could be,” said Hermione.

“But, he’s muggleborn, Hermione,” protested Ron. “He can’t be Slytherin’s heir.”

Harry was grateful for Ron’s support but his heart sank at the thought that Ron was mistaken. Harry was not muggleborn. Could he really be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? He didn’t want to believe it could be true. But, if it was, so what? he told himself defiantly. Aunt Petunia was his aunt, for Merlin’s sake, but that didn’t mean he was a git like Dudley. No one could choose their relatives. Even if Slytherin was his ancestor, it didn’t matter. He, Harry, was a Gryffindor. He was meant to be a hero. His mother had believed it to be true. Someday, everyone would cheer when they saw him. He would be admired by everyone. Just like when he had defeated Voldemort at the end of first year. It was his destiny.

Hermione responded, “Ron, you know that muggleborns could have a wizard or witch in their family tree way back, unknown to them…I’m not saying that Mark is Slytherin’s heir,” she protested hastily, at Ron’s angry look. “I’m just saying what other students will say. Mark needs to be prepared.”

Harry raised his chin and unconsciously stood taller. “Let them say what they will. Whether I am Slytherin’s heir or not, I did not harm Filch’s cat and I did not open the Chamber of Secrets. I am not a dark wizard.”

Ron and Hermione nodded supportively. Behind their friend’s back, however, they exchanged glances. They knew what the other was thinking. When Mark stood so straight and spoke so calmly, he was like a little prince. It was easy to believe, watching him stand so regally, that he was indeed the heir of one of the founders.