The castle was beginning to fracture beneath the surface.
It wasn't visible to the eye—not in the corridors or the classrooms—but Harry could feel it. Something was shifting. Friendships were fraying. Trust was wearing thin. And the fear… it was settling deeper into everyone's bones.
Every hallway looked different now.
Every shadow felt alive.
---
Breakfast in the Great Hall
The buzz of morning chatter had dulled over the past few weeks, replaced by low murmurs and suspicious glances. Harry sat between Ron and Hermione, pushing eggs around his plate.
He hadn't slept much.
Every time he closed his eyes, he dreamt of snakes slithering through stone, of voices echoing through tunnels… of Riddle's cold, calculating eyes.
Hermione was still buried in the notes from her "piping system" theory. "If we map the entire underground pipe structure, we might be able to find where the creature is hiding."
"We?" Ron muttered. "You mean you."
Harry didn't respond. His gaze drifted across the hall.
Draco sat with his head down, arms crossed. He looked like he hadn't slept either. When he finally looked up, their eyes met for the briefest moment—just long enough to exchange silent understanding.
Harry turned back to his food.
Ron groaned. "Can we go one morning without you two making intense eye contact?"
Hermione shushed him, but she didn't deny what they'd all seen.
---
Later – Professor Snape's Office
Snape stood over a stack of grimy, water-stained blueprints spread across his desk—schematics of the original castle foundations. He'd acquired them from the Restricted Section with Madam Pince's reluctant approval.
They were old. Incomplete. But they told him enough.
The pipe system ran deeper than he thought.
And the places where it converged—those were the danger zones.
Snape circled three locations on the map.
The girls' lavatory. The Trophy Room. And the second-floor corridor.
He tapped the second-floor section thoughtfully.
That was where Mrs. Norris had been found.
There was more than coincidence at play here.
Much more.
---
Gryffindor Common Room – That Evening
Harry returned from the library late, his eyes sore from squinting at old records. He climbed into the common room, expecting silence.
Instead, he found Ron pacing.
"I waited for you," Ron said sharply. "Where were you?"
"Library," Harry said tiredly. "Trying to find connections in the attacks."
Ron folded his arms. "With Malfoy?"
Harry frowned. "No."
"You've been quiet, weird—and you keep defending him."
"He's not behind the attacks, Ron."
"That's not the point! I don't trust him. And I don't like how you act around him lately."
Harry didn't answer.
Ron stepped closer. "You're not telling us everything."
Before Harry could respond, Hermione stepped down from the girls' dorms. "Enough. This isn't helping."
Ron sighed and stormed off to the boys' staircase. Hermione turned to Harry.
"I don't think you're wrong," she said gently. "But I also don't think Ron is."
Harry sat on the armrest of a chair. "I'm not trying to hurt anyone."
"I know," Hermione said. "But something is changing. Between you and Malfoy. And between all of us."
She looked sad when she said it.
Harry didn't know what to say.
---
Slytherin Dormitory
Draco sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the floor. Pansy had gone to bed early, and Blaise was reading upside-down in a chair.
No one asked where Draco had been.
He appreciated that.
Because the truth was, he didn't know what he was doing anymore.
He'd memorized the sound of Harry's laugh, even though he pretended to be annoyed by it.
He noticed when Harry wasn't in class, and it made him anxious.
This wasn't a rivalry anymore.
It hadn't been for a while.
He just didn't know what it was instead.
---
Late Night – Snape's Chambers
Snape sat in his chair by the fireplace, robes wrapped around him like armor. The fire cast flickering orange light across his face, but it couldn't warm the chill inside him.
He remembered another time—a different life—when he had watched a boy walk blindly into danger, and he hadn't stopped him.
This time, he would.
Even if it meant interfering more directly.
He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a vial—a silvery memory glowed within.
Not yet, he told himself. But soon.
If this path continued…
…he would have no choice but to show Potter what was coming.