Reasoning, Confrontation, and Parseltongue (2)

His gaze lingered on the three of them for a moment—a strange look, as though Harry and the others who had presented their reasoning were complete idiots.

"Mr. Palaiologos," McGonagall began, her voice carrying the impartial, businesslike tone she used in class, "Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley have brought me some... conjectures regarding Mr. Hagrid's arrest yesterday. These conjectures involve you. So I asked you here in the hope that you would cooperate with our efforts to clarify the situation."

Cass turned to look at McGonagall. There was no expression on his face—if anything, it was worse than expressionless. It was a calmness that suggested he had expected this all along, one that sent a chill down one's spine.

"Professor," his voice was soft, but every word was as clear as an inscription carved into stone, "I can probably guess what they said. Parseltongue, the Shadow Circle, the Chamber of Secrets, venomous snakes. Those things, right?"

The air in the office suddenly dropped several degrees. Hermione clenched the hem of her robes. Ron's breathing grew heavier. Harry stared at Cass's profile, trying to find even the slightest flaw in that young, sharply defined face, but he found nothing.

McGonagall neither denied nor confirmed it. "You are a Parselmouth, aren't you?"

"Yes." Cass's answer was as crisp as a knife cut.

"You are also a member of the Shadow Circle?"

"Yes."

"Where were you yesterday afternoon, between three and five?"

Cass did not answer immediately. He took a neatly folded piece of parchment from his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the desk before McGonagall. It was a detailed set of Potions study notes, written in neat, densely packed handwriting, filled with ingredient ratios, brewing times, and temperature-control points. On the final page was Professor Snape's signature and