176 Chapter 173
The Dueling club, as Harry learned throughout the next three days, was something that was a bit of a mystery. Some people were saying that they would be learning some new combat type magic; which Harry desperately needed since his Combat Magic skill, which was his theoretical DADA skill, hadn't levelled up even once this year under Lockhart's tutelage; and others were saying that they would be learning how to fight the Slytherin's monster in case they encountered it.
Either way, it sounded interesting. Like a true Ravenclaw, Harry went off to the library on Friday morning to research Dueling. All the Slytherins had been released from the hospital wing, and the Hufflepuff's common room arrest had ended, so the school was back to looking a bit more normal and populated than it did the last two days.
It was in the library where he first encountered what he later dubbed the Conspiracy Theorist Trio.
Consisting of Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Seamus Finnigan, this particular trio had dedicated an entire back table in the library to find out who the heir of Slytherin was. When Harry found them, the entire table was strewn with newspapers and books on genealogy, with the occasional parchment with family trees on it.
They had used any and all resources they had access to try and trace down every single lead on every single line that claimed to have descended from Slytherin. When they had noticed that Harry was watching them, they had eagerly taken him into their folds and proceeded to explain their entire theory in painstaking detail.
"And so with the Gaunts extinct and the Bulstrodes proven to be just lying, the only guy that is likely to have descended from Slytherin is Theodore Nott."
"Have you even considered the other Slytherins, or are you just pinning blame on him?" Harry asked, scratching his head, trying to understand what logic the three were using.
"What other Slytherins?" Seamus asked, looking thrown off.
"Malfoy? Greengrasses? Parkinsons? Davis? Have you looked into them?"
"Of course we have," Justin butted in, "Malfoy's family was started in the late 1600s by a businessman in France, so he's out of the question. All others are either too new or not purebloods. We've considered all the pureblood families in school. Don't tell Ron, but we even considered the Weasleys for research. We found absolutely nothing on any of them except Nott."
"Besides," Ernie butted in, "You know what's the most damning evidence is? Susan told me that the day before she was petrified, Hannah had turned down a proposition from Nott! And guess who Filch made clean the toilets the day Mrs. Norris was found hung from that torch? Nott!"
In an almost insane manner, this strange theory was starting to make some sense, even to Harry. Notts and Malfoys were close politically and familially. Everyone knew that. Was it that far of a stretch to imagine that Malfoy would have used the Notts for help with his plan to get back at Dumbledore and test Harry? If Lucius Malfoy knew that Nott was the Heir of Slytherin, then why wouldn't he use him in his plans?
"I mean you might not want to pin blame on people mate," Ernie continued, oblivious to Harry's internal thoughts, "but even you'll have to admit that it does seem at least a bit suspicious, how the people Nott's pissed off at are ending up hurt in this mess."
It did.
That night, when the clock hit eight, Harry and his friends made their way to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had been vanished, and a golden stage had been conjured up against one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. Most of the school seemed to be packed in the Hall, all carrying their wands and looking excited.
"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" asked Hermione over the mindless chatter of the stuffed crowd.
"As long as it's not…" Dean began, and Harry knew that exact moment that is Gryffindor friend wasn't going to like the teacher who was climbing up onto the stage.
Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum. A few feet behind him, dressed in a spiffy little blue suit came Professor Flitwick, who floated what looked like a wooden crate up onto the stage before twiddling over to stand beside Lockhart, looking slightly constipated.
Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called out, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions…for full details, see my published works."
An ominous rattling sound from the crate interrupted the monologue, and Dean and Ron shuddered beside him, no doubt getting flashbacks of that disastrous lesson about pixies that the DADA professor had tried to teach them. Lockhart carried on speaking.
"But now, my young apprentices, let me introduce my assistant, Professor Flitwick," said Lockhart with a wide grin, looking more punch-able to Harry than ever before, "His bouts in the Duelling championships have made sure that he knows his dueling. Not as well as me of course, having dueled down the Vanityfair witch herself. Now, the Professor has sportingly agreed to help me with a few short demonstrations before we begin. Isn't that right Professor?"
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