The atmosphere at Hogwarts had turned suffocating. Even the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall had darkened permanently to a moody, cloud-covered gray. Students whispered and worried, but no longer tried to guess who was behind the attacks.
The fear had shifted—from questions to survival.
Snape noticed the change in the way they moved. More cautious. Less loud. Even the loudest Gryffindors like Seamus and Ron were quieter in the corridors.
Especially Ron.
---
Snape's Office
"Crookshanks survived," Snape told Dumbledore quietly, placing a crystal vial of restored potion on the Headmaster's desk. "The cat was petrified—not killed."
Dumbledore nodded. "That's something, at least."
But Snape wasn't looking at the Headmaster anymore. His eyes were narrowed as he examined a page on his desk—a transcription of the carvings he had found beneath the castle.
"I believe the Chamber is preparing to open again."
Dumbledore leaned back. "Do you believe it ever truly closed?"
Snape's lips thinned. "No. Just...slumbered."
He pushed a finger across the parchment. "We're running out of time. Whatever's behind this—it isn't just echoing the past. It's accelerating."
---
Gryffindor Common Room
Ron stood near the hearth, arms crossed tightly as Hermione worked through another theory with her nose buried in a book.
Across the room, Harry sat curled up by the window, eyes scanning the dark grounds.
"He's not sleeping again," Hermione whispered.
"I know," Ron muttered. "He barely ate today."
She paused. "He's been talking to Malfoy."
Ron turned to her sharply. "You knew?"
Hermione frowned. "It's not like that."
"I didn't say it was," he snapped, then sighed. "But I'm not thrilled about it either."
Hermione glanced toward Harry. "Neither is he."
---
Slytherin Corridor
Draco crept quietly down the dim corridor where Snape had disappeared days ago.
He hadn't told anyone—not even Blaise—about what he'd overheard from behind a half-closed classroom door: Snape talking about carvings, water, and something "waking."
He didn't know why he was doing this.
He could have stayed in his dorm and let things happen around him.
But ever since the attack on Crookshanks—since he saw the way Potter's eyes darkened when he thought no one was watching—Draco had felt something twist inside him.
He had to understand what was going on.
Maybe even help.
---
The Hidden Chamber
The tunnel behind the storeroom was slick with water. The walls were tight. Draco's wand illuminated only a few feet ahead.
Then he reached the iron grate.
And there it was again.
The sound.
It wasn't a whisper this time. It was a slither. A pulse. A pressure in the air.
He stepped closer.
"Who's there?" he whispered.
Nothing answered.
Just the hum of something watching.
He backed away, quickly retracing his steps.
---
The Infirmary – Later
Madam Pomfrey flitted between beds, checking her petrified patients. Crookshanks lay curled next to Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, all frozen in their own form of stasis.
Harry visited quietly, Hermione at his side.
"She'll be alright," Madam Pomfrey said gently, referring to the cat. "I've seen worse."
Harry nodded, but barely heard her.
Hermione whispered, "They're sending for more experts from the Ministry. If they don't find something soon…"
"I'll find it," Harry said.
Hermione stared at him. "You don't even know where to look."
"Yes," he said. "But Snape might."
---
Snape's Classroom – That Evening
Harry stood in the doorway of Snape's office.
The Professor didn't glance up. "You're out past curfew."
Harry didn't move. "I need to know what's under the castle."
Snape's quill paused mid-stroke.
"Why ask me?"
"Because you've already been there."
Snape finally looked up. His eyes were unreadable.
Harry stepped forward. "If something's alive down there—if it's what's hurting people—then I need to stop it."
Snape stared at him for a long time.
Then, with a sigh, he opened the drawer and pulled out a sketch of the ouroboros carving.
"It's part of something older than Hogwarts itself. Something tied to bloodlines. Parseltongue. The Chamber of Secrets."
Harry felt the air chill. "You think it's open again."
"I know it is."
Snape folded the parchment slowly.
"And I think someone is guiding it."