FicFan.org

Story Rating:

Harry gasped, struck by a sudden inspiration. "Hold on, let me try something…Voldemort's most proud of his Slytherin blood, right? Being a Parseltongue?"

"Ah! Yes, of course," Dumbledore nodded, beaming. "Capital suggestion, Harry. Although what would you say?"

Harry shrugged, and looked at it, concentrating on picturing a snake in his head. "Release it…" he hissed.

The building shook, and the air around the ring shimmered. Harry looked around. "I didn't mean that to happen…is that good?"

"I don't think so, no," Dumbledore commented. "Perhaps we should leave…"

They fled, and not a moment too soon. There was a horrible crack as the quartet reached the lane, and Ridcully dropped his pipe.

"Ye Gods…look at the size of it!"

Some sort of Transfiguration had been applied to the Shack. The walls were twisting and reshaping themselves, the tree was being absorbed, and the whole structure was growing, higher and higher, until it must surely have been visible for miles around. It let out a deep, malevolent hiss, and Harry realised what it was.

A snake. An enormous, brick and mortar snake.

"You ready, kid?" Cohen asked him, and he heard the hero draw his battered and chipped sword. Harry's only response was to draw the Sword of Gryffindor with his left hand, and his wand with his right. Beside him, Ridcully whipped up a fireball, and Dumbledore's eyes blazed as he stood tall, his wand raised above his head.

"I'm ready."

Harry Potter and the Discworld, Chapter 27