(no subject)
The Chamber
Summary: [Parody of Child of Grace] Sometimes, a Slytherin does have to defend the honor of her House. And of Parselmouths. And of Occulumenses. And…
Genre: Parody/Revenge
Rating: R (Had to move it up due to Zabini-family jokes)
Author’s Note: I wanted to wait until I finished the spork of my chapter, but I just couldn’t STAND it all.
Oh, yeah, and a warning for a certain near-OC of mine being a bigoted Slytherin. (“Though I heard she pretended otherwise”, indeed…) She happens to be the best one to deliver a vicious smackdown to Holly, though, due to her nature and specific talents. And I like writing vicious bitches/bastards who are supposed to be arrogant and vicious instead of the paragons of virtue, anyway.
[NOTE: This is in the Answer the Call, Send Help-verse [albeit a few years later than the timeframe of the sporkings], which is why the character may be more brutal than she might have been in canon.]
…Oh, yeah, and some parody of the writing style of Child of Grace, so no, I haven’t had a stroke. :P
(Had a situation explaining the exact time frame, but dropped it due to the writing quality being poor.)
--
There was darkness, like there used to be in her cupboard. After a minute, Holly brilliantly realized it was because of the blindfold on her face, which blocked out all light. She scowled scathingly as she tried to wriggle her frail ankles and wrists free of their bonds. No doubt, this was Weasley’s fault. The Gryffindor was so bigoted against Slytherins it wasn’t funny.
“Ron, enough,” she called out, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “Free me now, if you please,” she said, cursing the Dursleys for ingraining politeness into her.
“Ron? Whoever is Ron?”
Green eyes widened under the blindfold, and Holly’s mind whirled. That wasn’t Ron, or anyone she knew, in fact. Indeed, it sounded like… a woman? Holly squirmed against the stone floor, feeling uncomfortable. Then, she tried her old standby, namely rifling through the mind of her mysterious kidnapper.
However, this time it failed completely, blocked by a seemingly impenetrable wall concealing whatever lurked in the woman’s mind. To add injury to insult, a return volley came a second after her own abilities ran into the wall, causing Holly to shriek in pain as her mind nearly shattered at the blow. There was a dry chuckle. “It isn’t so wonderful when someone does it to you, now is it?” the woman asked, contempt thick in her voice. “Now, perhaps you could have resisted if you had bothered in the slightest to train yourself in Occulumency. But no, you were lazy enough to be satisfied with the abilities you had, even though you ran into walls in people’s minds before. It never crossed your mind that a so-called ‘Mind Mage’ might not want to become your best friend ever, did it? You deserve everything you get.” She snorted. “They’re called ‘Occulumenses’ and ‘Legilimenses’, by the way - an Occulumens hides the contents of her mind, a Legilimens can see the contents of other people’s minds. Similar yet opposed abilities - of course, one can train to be both, but the best are inclined towards one or the other. Not that any of this will make sense to you, of course. You believe too much in your own perfection to ever bother learning.”
“Who are you?” Holly choked, the long speech by someone other than her or one of her Slytherin friends utterly flying over her head.
“An Occulumens, in case you were too thick to notice,” the woman snapped, the contempt veritably dripping off her voice now. When she spoke next, she had composed herself. “A Slytherin. A Parselmouth. A witch. A Muggleborn who worked to be the equal of any Pureblood instead of sitting around looking helpless and whining whenever someone failed to dump gifts into her waiting lap. In other words, my basic traits are superficially similar to yours, but I am your total opposite in character.”
“You’re a Muggleborn? Like Autumn?” Holly said in surprise.
“Did you hear what I said about helpless Mudbloods?” the woman said, the contempt in her voice growing, if that was possible. “The Mudblood shouldn’t have survived overnight in Slytherin - displaying such helplessness towards a group of Pureblood Slytherins? It would have only been the natural order of things for them to emotionally - if not physically - tear her apart on the spot and then castigate the Hat for embarrassing their House in its fit of senility. God - Merlin knows, they were already talking about doing that to me when a seventh-year - a Prefect, no less - casually cast Serpensortia, and if you honestly think that wasn’t an attempt to put the Mudblood in the Hospital Wing or kill her -”
“I’m sure it wasn’t!” Holly cried, a wave of rage going through her at this insult to her House. The woman couldn’t be a Slytherin. How could anyone dislike Slytherin or claim they were prejudiced? Slytherin contained many Muggleborns!
“- as I was saying, you’re an utter fool,” the woman said, unperturbed by Holly’s outburst. “Oh, and keep your mind shut - it isn’t very entertaining to listen to your idiocy. Whatever you claim to be Slytherin House, it certainly isn’t. Perhaps you just happened to be hit by an exceptionally strong Confundus on your way to Hogwarts - no surprise, with your condescending attitude towards all when you lack the power and ability to defend yourself against those you regard as your lessers -, and you’ve actually been going to Ravenclaw all this time. But no,” she said half to herself, “the Ravenclaws have enough good judgment that they would have tipped you out the window by now. I really have no idea how you can be so moronic as to think Slytherin freely accepts Mudbloods.”
“Aren’t you a Muggleborn?” Holly asked cleverly.
The woman snorted. “I don’t wallow in my status as such, and as I said earlier, you deaf little imbecile, I have never lain back and whored my dignity out in exchange for oh-so-generous Wizarding-born wizard and witches to show their benevolence by helping out the poor little Muggleborn, bless her ignorant heart. Unlike you, who would be exceptional even amongst Mudbloods for begging eternal pity on your ignorance of Wizarding traditions. That’s what libraries are for, you worthless, sniveling brat. And you’re a Half-Blood. Regardless of your upbringing, you have Potter blood, and your ancestors, though they were Gryffindors, were still Purebloods, and are rolling in their graves.”
Rage washed through Holly’s mind at the woman’s tone, which had long ceased to be merely dripping with contempt and was now attempting to flood New Orleans with sheer disdain, but she elegantly kept it under control. “You’re utterly deluded if you think you’re hiding it, brat,” the woman said, but Holly ignored her.
“Why have you brought me here?” Holly demanded demandingly, wanting an answer. It was dank, and cold, and uncomfortable, and she was really missing the warm beds of the Zabinis and their six-person hot tubs. The mass of bodies hadn’t exactly been uncomfortable, either, except when an adult landed on her. That had been a great Yule. Such a pity that Blaise’s aunt’s timing in having a near-fatal illness had been so ridiculously inconvenient.
The woman made a dismissive noise. “It’s hardly because I want to throw you a birthday party.”
“I would hope not,” Holly said delicately, “My birthday is in July, after all.”
“Sarcasm, I see, is also not one of your specialties,” the woman said, her face obviously contorted in a sneer to tell from how the words came out. “I’m not surprised. It requires some intelligence to comprehend, after all.” Anger burned within Holly, but she said nothing. “And stop being so self-righteous about controlling yourself - it’s quite evident you feel rage towards anyone who doesn’t immediately rush to gift you with endless presents and affection. Now, where was I? Ah, yes.
“You have humiliated Slytherin House by your very existence, made Occulumenses all look like idiots who go through other people’s minds as if they were wardrobes - which is not to say we do not, but we are hardly so blatant about it and openly smug about our powers -, exemplified the stereotype of a weak and hysterical witch, outdone the most shameless Mudblood in sniveling for mercy for the ignorant little outsider, and tarnished the reputation of Parselmouths. You idiot, how could you possibly not have talked your way out of being seen talking to a snake? I did it monthly when I was a young child!” The woman spat. “Easiest bit of magic to disguise short of Occulumency and Legilimency - even Muggle children cheerfully talk to animals and try to imitate their speech - the only, albeit crucial, difference is that Parselmouths actually can speak to snakes and understand them in return. For a supposed Slytherin and Occulumens, you must have been a ridiculously poor liar.”
Holly gritted her teeth. How dare anyone mock her past! As if in response to that thought, the woman tapped her on the shoulder with her foot, and Holly cringed away from the contact. As a result, she got nudged several more times, until at last she grew tired of cringing and shrieked “Stop!”.
“You’re remarkably inconsistent about your little problem,” the woman noted, contemptuous as usual. “If anyone outside your little band of followers touches you, they’re being unbearably cruel and unfeeling for grazing your skin. If one of your followers jumps on you and hugs you, you don’t even blink - although, if anything, that should trigger a more violent response by far. Are you sure you aren’t just playing for attention?”
Holly finally lost her temper and began to shriek at the woman about her incredible heartlessness and uncaring, but the woman only knelt on the floor and slapped her in response. Her robes rustling as she straightened, the woman said, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve had enough of you.” Holly heard the woman’s footsteps heading away, as if she was moving towards somewhere else, and wondered whatever she was doing. Was she walking over to something? (She might have heard a snort of “Such brilliance”, and almost felt kindly towards the woman for at last acknowledging the obvious. Almost.)
Her question was unanswered when the woman said in Parseltongue “Sssssspeak to me, Ssssslytherin, greatesssst of the Hogwartsssss Four.” She could agree with that sentiment, all right, the green-eyed Slytherin thought. Slytherin was the greatest, no doubt. Green eyes blinked under the blindfold. But what was the woman doing?
It sounded like something grated open, and then there was a noise as if a great creature was slithering over stone, a thud as something immense landed on the floor, and a long, unpleasant hiss. “Mudblood,” an ancient, sharp voice, more reverence-inducing and older-sounding than even Dumbledore himself, hissed in Parseltongue. “You dare return to the Chamber? Hassssss your ssssssensssse of honor overcome your sssssniveling insssstinct of presssserving your worthless life, ssssso that you have come to receive your rightful punisssshment for defiling Ssssssalazar’sssss gift with your filthy tongue?”
“Jörmungandr,” the woman hissed politely, as if greeting an old acquaintance she had just run across after many years of separation. “I sssssee the yearssss have not changed you. But no, I have… worthier prey for you.”
A rasping, choked-off noise that might have been a Parseltongue snort came from the other person in the room. “Worthier than a Mudblood defiling Sssssalazar’s gift and Houssssse? Sssssuch a creature doesssss not exisssst.”
“Desssspite my lesssss-than-noble ancesssstry, I have alwaysssss done my besssst to honor thisssss greatesssst of Housssses and live up to Ssssssalazar Sssssslytherin’sssss visssssion of hisssss ideal ssssstudent and Heir.” The woman snorted and probably gestured towards Holly. “Thisssss girl, on the other hand, hasssss made a mockery of all the Housssssse isssss and sssstandsss for. Ssssshe lackssss any dignity or pride whatssssoever, hasssss neither cunning nor ressssssourcefulnesssss, pandersssss to Mudbloodsssss, never sssseeks to better herssself, and even refussssesss to acknowledge the House’sssss most basssssic traitssss.” The woman laughed bitterly. “Ssssshe sssseemssss to think sssshe was Ssssorted into ssssome deformed spawn of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw with a dassssh of pretensssse of being Hufflepuff.”
A hiss with no meaning save for pure, animalistic rage filled the chamber. “I sssssshall - sssssssstill,” it hissed in a much softer, sibilant tone that sounded oddly threatening, “ssssshe issssss fressssh, and I have waited yearsssss to kill the filthy Mudblood who -”
“Yesssss, who defiled Sssssalazar’s gift and Housssse,” the woman hissed, sounding aggravated. “The gift isssss breeding true, though, and in another two generationsssss, my desssscendantsssss ssssshall be Purebloodsssss with Sssssalazar’ssss great gift. Sssssso in the end, I - not the Gauntsssss, too inbred to likely even write their namesssss correctly by now, but I, the Mudblood - ssssshall resssstore the gift to the Wizarding World. I. The Mudblood. Who isssss Sssssslytherin’sssss true Heir, then?”
Much enraged hissing and spitting commenced, and Holly smirked as she heard the woman dashing across the chamber. It didn’t last for long, though. “Yessssss,” the other person hissed, sounding as if he or she would love nothing more than to tear the woman apart on the spot, “There have been other Parsssselmouthssss at Hogwartsssss… your ssssspawn?” Another enraged hiss. “Then, why have they not ressssssponded to my callsssss?”
“Perhapsssss trying to encourage the children of a Mudblood to kill all the Mudbloodssss wassss not your mosssst cunning idea,” the woman hissed, amusement unconcealed in her voice. “I asssssure you, though, they sssssshall not let their mother’sssss death go unavenged. Sssssso kill the young canker upon the great Houssssssse of Sssssalazar and allow me to depart in peace, lesssst my children come to vanquisssssh Ssssslytherin’s monsssster.”
Holly scowled. Surely, her Mind Mage abilities - forget all those big words, she was a Mind Mage! - would help her! She reached out with her mind towards the other person, and -
And ran into an irate mind that resisted her skills easily. A long, hideous hiss filled the room and finally formed what passed for words in Parseltongue: “You dare…”
The woman laughed. “I told you ssssshe wassss a fool.”
“Attempting to Legilimisssssse I, a bassssilissk, the bassssilissssk of Hogwartssss…”
“I did tell you,” the woman hissed, sounding as if a smug smirk was spreading across her face.
Holly’s mind spun too fast for her to think. A basilisk! She hadn’t thought of that! But of course, it hissed and was fairly large. And it knew Salazar! How amazing! She wasn’t the Heir, of course, but she would like to befriend it. And have it help her in her social life. It would be nice for Weasley and Hermione to be Petrified… teach them a lesson…
“Ssssso,” the woman hissed, “You do ssssee -”
The basilisk - for that was what it was - slithered across the floor towards Holly. “I’m Holly,” Holly said in Parseltongue, attempting to bow even though she was tied up and lying on the floor. “It’sssss a pleasssure to meet you.” She cursed the Dursleys again for instilling such reflexive politeness in her.
“May I add, this won’t be a quick death,” the woman called in English. “Hence why I blindfolded you - since you undoubtedly lack the intelligence to figure it out on your own. You’ll die by venom and, ahem, massive injuries. And I intend to watch as much as I can - in a mirror, of course, and don’t think I haven’t told Albussssssss to come down here with friendsssssss if I don’t return in a few hoursssss.” This last part was said in Parseltongue, and the basilisk made an annoyed rasping noise. “May you not get indigesssstion, Jörmungandr,” the woman hissed in a friendly tone, the smirk on her face undoubtedly a mile wide.
Holly had just enough time to have another wave of rage crash through her before the fangs sank into her skin, and she started to scream.
--
Author's Note: Ah, yes, dear Katherine Miller, a.k.a. Kendra Dumbledore. (JKR really has only herself to blame due to making Albus "know Parseltongue". That doesn't mean "Parselmouth"? Yeaaaaaaaaah, riiiiiight... And she didn't exactly write Kendra as a Hufflepuff, what with all that secrecy, cunning, and resourcefulness... And Kendra "pretended otherwise [regarding her Muggleborn status]".... And... eh, I just grabbed canon traits and ran with them. Everyone knows that's my speciality. :D;;) After several amusing sporkings in which she was this far from getting into a brawl with canon!Harry and she defended Slytherin House against Holly... I figured this was a good idea. >DDDD It was cathatric to ME, any rate rate. XD
Summary: [Parody of Child of Grace] Sometimes, a Slytherin does have to defend the honor of her House. And of Parselmouths. And of Occulumenses. And…
Genre: Parody/Revenge
Rating: R (Had to move it up due to Zabini-family jokes)
Author’s Note: I wanted to wait until I finished the spork of my chapter, but I just couldn’t STAND it all.
Oh, yeah, and a warning for a certain near-OC of mine being a bigoted Slytherin. (“Though I heard she pretended otherwise”, indeed…) She happens to be the best one to deliver a vicious smackdown to Holly, though, due to her nature and specific talents. And I like writing vicious bitches/bastards who are supposed to be arrogant and vicious instead of the paragons of virtue, anyway.
[NOTE: This is in the Answer the Call, Send Help-verse [albeit a few years later than the timeframe of the sporkings], which is why the character may be more brutal than she might have been in canon.]
…Oh, yeah, and some parody of the writing style of Child of Grace, so no, I haven’t had a stroke. :P
(Had a situation explaining the exact time frame, but dropped it due to the writing quality being poor.)
--
There was darkness, like there used to be in her cupboard. After a minute, Holly brilliantly realized it was because of the blindfold on her face, which blocked out all light. She scowled scathingly as she tried to wriggle her frail ankles and wrists free of their bonds. No doubt, this was Weasley’s fault. The Gryffindor was so bigoted against Slytherins it wasn’t funny.
“Ron, enough,” she called out, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “Free me now, if you please,” she said, cursing the Dursleys for ingraining politeness into her.
“Ron? Whoever is Ron?”
Green eyes widened under the blindfold, and Holly’s mind whirled. That wasn’t Ron, or anyone she knew, in fact. Indeed, it sounded like… a woman? Holly squirmed against the stone floor, feeling uncomfortable. Then, she tried her old standby, namely rifling through the mind of her mysterious kidnapper.
However, this time it failed completely, blocked by a seemingly impenetrable wall concealing whatever lurked in the woman’s mind. To add injury to insult, a return volley came a second after her own abilities ran into the wall, causing Holly to shriek in pain as her mind nearly shattered at the blow. There was a dry chuckle. “It isn’t so wonderful when someone does it to you, now is it?” the woman asked, contempt thick in her voice. “Now, perhaps you could have resisted if you had bothered in the slightest to train yourself in Occulumency. But no, you were lazy enough to be satisfied with the abilities you had, even though you ran into walls in people’s minds before. It never crossed your mind that a so-called ‘Mind Mage’ might not want to become your best friend ever, did it? You deserve everything you get.” She snorted. “They’re called ‘Occulumenses’ and ‘Legilimenses’, by the way - an Occulumens hides the contents of her mind, a Legilimens can see the contents of other people’s minds. Similar yet opposed abilities - of course, one can train to be both, but the best are inclined towards one or the other. Not that any of this will make sense to you, of course. You believe too much in your own perfection to ever bother learning.”
“Who are you?” Holly choked, the long speech by someone other than her or one of her Slytherin friends utterly flying over her head.
“An Occulumens, in case you were too thick to notice,” the woman snapped, the contempt veritably dripping off her voice now. When she spoke next, she had composed herself. “A Slytherin. A Parselmouth. A witch. A Muggleborn who worked to be the equal of any Pureblood instead of sitting around looking helpless and whining whenever someone failed to dump gifts into her waiting lap. In other words, my basic traits are superficially similar to yours, but I am your total opposite in character.”
“You’re a Muggleborn? Like Autumn?” Holly said in surprise.
“Did you hear what I said about helpless Mudbloods?” the woman said, the contempt in her voice growing, if that was possible. “The Mudblood shouldn’t have survived overnight in Slytherin - displaying such helplessness towards a group of Pureblood Slytherins? It would have only been the natural order of things for them to emotionally - if not physically - tear her apart on the spot and then castigate the Hat for embarrassing their House in its fit of senility. God - Merlin knows, they were already talking about doing that to me when a seventh-year - a Prefect, no less - casually cast Serpensortia, and if you honestly think that wasn’t an attempt to put the Mudblood in the Hospital Wing or kill her -”
“I’m sure it wasn’t!” Holly cried, a wave of rage going through her at this insult to her House. The woman couldn’t be a Slytherin. How could anyone dislike Slytherin or claim they were prejudiced? Slytherin contained many Muggleborns!
“- as I was saying, you’re an utter fool,” the woman said, unperturbed by Holly’s outburst. “Oh, and keep your mind shut - it isn’t very entertaining to listen to your idiocy. Whatever you claim to be Slytherin House, it certainly isn’t. Perhaps you just happened to be hit by an exceptionally strong Confundus on your way to Hogwarts - no surprise, with your condescending attitude towards all when you lack the power and ability to defend yourself against those you regard as your lessers -, and you’ve actually been going to Ravenclaw all this time. But no,” she said half to herself, “the Ravenclaws have enough good judgment that they would have tipped you out the window by now. I really have no idea how you can be so moronic as to think Slytherin freely accepts Mudbloods.”
“Aren’t you a Muggleborn?” Holly asked cleverly.
The woman snorted. “I don’t wallow in my status as such, and as I said earlier, you deaf little imbecile, I have never lain back and whored my dignity out in exchange for oh-so-generous Wizarding-born wizard and witches to show their benevolence by helping out the poor little Muggleborn, bless her ignorant heart. Unlike you, who would be exceptional even amongst Mudbloods for begging eternal pity on your ignorance of Wizarding traditions. That’s what libraries are for, you worthless, sniveling brat. And you’re a Half-Blood. Regardless of your upbringing, you have Potter blood, and your ancestors, though they were Gryffindors, were still Purebloods, and are rolling in their graves.”
Rage washed through Holly’s mind at the woman’s tone, which had long ceased to be merely dripping with contempt and was now attempting to flood New Orleans with sheer disdain, but she elegantly kept it under control. “You’re utterly deluded if you think you’re hiding it, brat,” the woman said, but Holly ignored her.
“Why have you brought me here?” Holly demanded demandingly, wanting an answer. It was dank, and cold, and uncomfortable, and she was really missing the warm beds of the Zabinis and their six-person hot tubs. The mass of bodies hadn’t exactly been uncomfortable, either, except when an adult landed on her. That had been a great Yule. Such a pity that Blaise’s aunt’s timing in having a near-fatal illness had been so ridiculously inconvenient.
The woman made a dismissive noise. “It’s hardly because I want to throw you a birthday party.”
“I would hope not,” Holly said delicately, “My birthday is in July, after all.”
“Sarcasm, I see, is also not one of your specialties,” the woman said, her face obviously contorted in a sneer to tell from how the words came out. “I’m not surprised. It requires some intelligence to comprehend, after all.” Anger burned within Holly, but she said nothing. “And stop being so self-righteous about controlling yourself - it’s quite evident you feel rage towards anyone who doesn’t immediately rush to gift you with endless presents and affection. Now, where was I? Ah, yes.
“You have humiliated Slytherin House by your very existence, made Occulumenses all look like idiots who go through other people’s minds as if they were wardrobes - which is not to say we do not, but we are hardly so blatant about it and openly smug about our powers -, exemplified the stereotype of a weak and hysterical witch, outdone the most shameless Mudblood in sniveling for mercy for the ignorant little outsider, and tarnished the reputation of Parselmouths. You idiot, how could you possibly not have talked your way out of being seen talking to a snake? I did it monthly when I was a young child!” The woman spat. “Easiest bit of magic to disguise short of Occulumency and Legilimency - even Muggle children cheerfully talk to animals and try to imitate their speech - the only, albeit crucial, difference is that Parselmouths actually can speak to snakes and understand them in return. For a supposed Slytherin and Occulumens, you must have been a ridiculously poor liar.”
Holly gritted her teeth. How dare anyone mock her past! As if in response to that thought, the woman tapped her on the shoulder with her foot, and Holly cringed away from the contact. As a result, she got nudged several more times, until at last she grew tired of cringing and shrieked “Stop!”.
“You’re remarkably inconsistent about your little problem,” the woman noted, contemptuous as usual. “If anyone outside your little band of followers touches you, they’re being unbearably cruel and unfeeling for grazing your skin. If one of your followers jumps on you and hugs you, you don’t even blink - although, if anything, that should trigger a more violent response by far. Are you sure you aren’t just playing for attention?”
Holly finally lost her temper and began to shriek at the woman about her incredible heartlessness and uncaring, but the woman only knelt on the floor and slapped her in response. Her robes rustling as she straightened, the woman said, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve had enough of you.” Holly heard the woman’s footsteps heading away, as if she was moving towards somewhere else, and wondered whatever she was doing. Was she walking over to something? (She might have heard a snort of “Such brilliance”, and almost felt kindly towards the woman for at last acknowledging the obvious. Almost.)
Her question was unanswered when the woman said in Parseltongue “Sssssspeak to me, Ssssslytherin, greatesssst of the Hogwartsssss Four.” She could agree with that sentiment, all right, the green-eyed Slytherin thought. Slytherin was the greatest, no doubt. Green eyes blinked under the blindfold. But what was the woman doing?
It sounded like something grated open, and then there was a noise as if a great creature was slithering over stone, a thud as something immense landed on the floor, and a long, unpleasant hiss. “Mudblood,” an ancient, sharp voice, more reverence-inducing and older-sounding than even Dumbledore himself, hissed in Parseltongue. “You dare return to the Chamber? Hassssss your ssssssensssse of honor overcome your sssssniveling insssstinct of presssserving your worthless life, ssssso that you have come to receive your rightful punisssshment for defiling Ssssssalazar’sssss gift with your filthy tongue?”
“Jörmungandr,” the woman hissed politely, as if greeting an old acquaintance she had just run across after many years of separation. “I sssssee the yearssss have not changed you. But no, I have… worthier prey for you.”
A rasping, choked-off noise that might have been a Parseltongue snort came from the other person in the room. “Worthier than a Mudblood defiling Sssssalazar’s gift and Houssssse? Sssssuch a creature doesssss not exisssst.”
“Desssspite my lesssss-than-noble ancesssstry, I have alwaysssss done my besssst to honor thisssss greatesssst of Housssses and live up to Ssssssalazar Sssssslytherin’sssss visssssion of hisssss ideal ssssstudent and Heir.” The woman snorted and probably gestured towards Holly. “Thisssss girl, on the other hand, hasssss made a mockery of all the Housssssse isssss and sssstandsss for. Ssssshe lackssss any dignity or pride whatssssoever, hasssss neither cunning nor ressssssourcefulnesssss, pandersssss to Mudbloodsssss, never sssseeks to better herssself, and even refussssesss to acknowledge the House’sssss most basssssic traitssss.” The woman laughed bitterly. “Ssssshe sssseemssss to think sssshe was Ssssorted into ssssome deformed spawn of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw with a dassssh of pretensssse of being Hufflepuff.”
A hiss with no meaning save for pure, animalistic rage filled the chamber. “I sssssshall - sssssssstill,” it hissed in a much softer, sibilant tone that sounded oddly threatening, “ssssshe issssss fressssh, and I have waited yearsssss to kill the filthy Mudblood who -”
“Yesssss, who defiled Sssssalazar’s gift and Housssse,” the woman hissed, sounding aggravated. “The gift isssss breeding true, though, and in another two generationsssss, my desssscendantsssss ssssshall be Purebloodsssss with Sssssalazar’ssss great gift. Sssssso in the end, I - not the Gauntsssss, too inbred to likely even write their namesssss correctly by now, but I, the Mudblood - ssssshall resssstore the gift to the Wizarding World. I. The Mudblood. Who isssss Sssssslytherin’sssss true Heir, then?”
Much enraged hissing and spitting commenced, and Holly smirked as she heard the woman dashing across the chamber. It didn’t last for long, though. “Yessssss,” the other person hissed, sounding as if he or she would love nothing more than to tear the woman apart on the spot, “There have been other Parsssselmouthssss at Hogwartsssss… your ssssspawn?” Another enraged hiss. “Then, why have they not ressssssponded to my callsssss?”
“Perhapsssss trying to encourage the children of a Mudblood to kill all the Mudbloodssss wassss not your mosssst cunning idea,” the woman hissed, amusement unconcealed in her voice. “I asssssure you, though, they sssssshall not let their mother’sssss death go unavenged. Sssssso kill the young canker upon the great Houssssssse of Sssssalazar and allow me to depart in peace, lesssst my children come to vanquisssssh Ssssslytherin’s monsssster.”
Holly scowled. Surely, her Mind Mage abilities - forget all those big words, she was a Mind Mage! - would help her! She reached out with her mind towards the other person, and -
And ran into an irate mind that resisted her skills easily. A long, hideous hiss filled the room and finally formed what passed for words in Parseltongue: “You dare…”
The woman laughed. “I told you ssssshe wassss a fool.”
“Attempting to Legilimisssssse I, a bassssilissk, the bassssilissssk of Hogwartssss…”
“I did tell you,” the woman hissed, sounding as if a smug smirk was spreading across her face.
Holly’s mind spun too fast for her to think. A basilisk! She hadn’t thought of that! But of course, it hissed and was fairly large. And it knew Salazar! How amazing! She wasn’t the Heir, of course, but she would like to befriend it. And have it help her in her social life. It would be nice for Weasley and Hermione to be Petrified… teach them a lesson…
“Ssssso,” the woman hissed, “You do ssssee -”
The basilisk - for that was what it was - slithered across the floor towards Holly. “I’m Holly,” Holly said in Parseltongue, attempting to bow even though she was tied up and lying on the floor. “It’sssss a pleasssure to meet you.” She cursed the Dursleys again for instilling such reflexive politeness in her.
“May I add, this won’t be a quick death,” the woman called in English. “Hence why I blindfolded you - since you undoubtedly lack the intelligence to figure it out on your own. You’ll die by venom and, ahem, massive injuries. And I intend to watch as much as I can - in a mirror, of course, and don’t think I haven’t told Albussssssss to come down here with friendsssssss if I don’t return in a few hoursssss.” This last part was said in Parseltongue, and the basilisk made an annoyed rasping noise. “May you not get indigesssstion, Jörmungandr,” the woman hissed in a friendly tone, the smirk on her face undoubtedly a mile wide.
Holly had just enough time to have another wave of rage crash through her before the fangs sank into her skin, and she started to scream.
--
Author's Note: Ah, yes, dear Katherine Miller, a.k.a. Kendra Dumbledore. (JKR really has only herself to blame due to making Albus "know Parseltongue". That doesn't mean "Parselmouth"? Yeaaaaaaaaah, riiiiiight... And she didn't exactly write Kendra as a Hufflepuff, what with all that secrecy, cunning, and resourcefulness... And Kendra "pretended otherwise [regarding her Muggleborn status]".... And... eh, I just grabbed canon traits and ran with them. Everyone knows that's my speciality. :D;;) After several amusing sporkings in which she was this far from getting into a brawl with canon!Harry and she defended Slytherin House against Holly... I figured this was a good idea. >DDDD It was cathatric to ME, any rate rate. XD