Parseltongue at the Dueling Club (IV)

He saw the snake—its blood-red eyes, its open mouth, the clear, sticky venom clinging to its fangs. His mind went blank. Spells, tactics, rules—all gone. There was only one thought: Ron absolutely could not be bitten.

He opened his mouth, and a sound surged from his throat. "Stop. I command you to stop!"

The sound came from his mouth, but it was not English, nor was it any human language. It was hissing. Like a snake flicking its tongue, like wind passing through dry reeds, like something slithering through the darkness.

He saw the snake suddenly freeze. Its head turned toward him, its blood-red eyes fixing on him. Its vertical pupils narrowed, then widened again. Slowly, the snake relaxed and lowered its head, as though listening—or waiting.

The classroom was so quiet that the crackle of candlewicks could be heard.

"What was... that sound?"

"Parseltongue... he was talking to the snake..."

"Slytherin's heir... only Slytherin's heir can speak to snakes..."

The voices were quiet, but they pierced Harry's ears like needles. He turned and saw the Gryffindor students backing away. Seamus's face was pale, Dean looked as though he had seen a ghost, Lavender covered her mouth, and Parvati gripped Lavender's arm. Even Neville had retreated half a step, though he might not have realized it himself.

Hermione did not step back. She stood where she was, looking at Harry. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Ron stood beside Harry, his wand still raised. His face was pale too, but his feet were rooted to the floor. "Harry..." His voice was very soft. "What are you doing?"

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but no words came out. His throat tightened, as though something were choking him. He turned back to the snake—it was still there, coiled