Disclaimer: I don't own it. J.K. Rowling does as does her publishers. I'm just merely borrowing. Enjoy.
A Serpent in Lion's Clothing
That idiot Lockhart has asked me to be his assistant while we show the students how to duel properly. As if he could ever duel properly, I think. That imbecile knows nothing, about dueling or anything else for that matter. Honestly, who in their right mind releases Cornish pixies in their classroom to a group of inexperienced students? He obviously is beyond all levels of sanity.
I draw in another deep breath as I stand off to the side. I glance around the large gathering of students. My dark eyes quickly find the horrid black messy hair. I quietly growl under my breath before glancing at the other students.
Why did I ever agree to protect that horrid brat? He only shares L—his mother's eyes. The rest of him, though, is his bastard father. Seconds later, I sigh again. Perhaps I am being too harsh. The boy is at least trying to learn defense. My dark eyes then narrow into slits as I concentrate on the boy. However, it is most likely due to him wishing to duel Malfoy. Yes, taking after your father, are we, Potter? Well, I will make damn sure that you do not. I refuse to protect a conceited child that believes he is above all consequences, especially you, Potter. Try it, and you will suffer. Oh, how I will see to that. I assure you of that, Potter. My mouth waters in anticipation for the lecture I have for the boy.
Ah, wonderful, that idiot Lockhart is introducing me to the rest of the crowd. As if the morons cannot already guess that I am your assistant, Lockhart, I sneer in my mind. Oh, but do tell them again, though. It does take some of these buffoons awhile to catch on. My dark eyes then feel the familiar green eyes on me. I quickly glance towards the small Gryffindor boy whom I have sworn to protect. Serves you right, Potter, I think amusedly when I notice the boy's disappointment.
A few minutes later, WHAT, I think angrily. I never said that, you imbecile! I have quite the level of experience in dueling. Perhaps I should show you just how much, Lockhart. I clench my teeth tightly as I hold back a spell and wait patiently for the signal to begin. I don't have to wait long.
Ha! I think as I watch Lockhart fly backwards before slamming against the far wall. Yes, Lockhart, you surely could tell what I was going to do. Imbecile, I growl. Potter could do better than that, and that is saying something.
A few minutes pass by after Lockhart allows the students to pair up and duel. I watch in complete silence as spells fly in numerous directions. I look on in pure amusement. Complete and utter failure yet again, Lockhart, I think. I must commend you. In all her years of teaching here, not even Aurora Sinistra has caused this much destruction before. I then sigh softly as I watch him try to regain control. It doesn't take long, unfortunately.
Ah, wonderful, the idiot agrees with my decision of Malfoy and Potter dueling. The two are of equal caliber in skill and speed. I draw in another deep breath as I look on. The two morons are not following directions, yet again. However, that is not a surprise. It is Potter and Malfoy, after all.
I then look on in utter annoyance when Draco conjures a serpent out of his wand. I taught it to you once, and now you wish to use it. Imbeciles, the whole lot, I think before walking towards it to take care of the conjured snake. However, of course, one must take into account that I work with a complete moron who goes by the name of Gilderoy Lockhart. He tries to banish it, but only manages to aggravate it even more. My mouth then drops as I hear the hisses in front of me. The sounds are not from the snake, but the Gryffindor boy.
Potter…? But…I…how…what? I listen further in pure fascination and slight horror. The emotions behind my Occlumency barriers are starting to crack. No…you can't…you can't be the heir! I refuse to believe that you, the son of Lily Evans, can be the heir of Slytherin. No! You are the son of Lily Evans, a woman full of love and kindness…and goodness. You…you are not…you are not the heir of Slytherin. I refuse to believe it.
However, Harry Potter, the young second-year Gryffindor, continues hissing at the snake in perfect Parseltongue. I cannot deny it any longer now. Somehow, Slytherin blood flows through his veins. He belongs in my house. He belongs to Slytherin. I draw in a deep breath. He belongs with me.
This shall be interesting, I muse quietly. I then destroy the conjured snake and stare at the confused boy. Perhaps there is hope yet for us, Potter…no…no…Harry. You are Harry, not Potter. My dark eyes then narrow on his confusion. You do not realize your gift, do you? How fascinating, but it matters not. You belong with me, Harry. You are a serpent in lion's clothing.