The castle felt colder now. Not just the weather, but the air itself—charged, brittle, like something ancient had stirred and was still stretching awake. Even the portraits had begun whispering to each other more than usual. And the students? They avoided shadows. They hurried in groups. They no longer laughed in corridors.
Harry noticed it most in the silence. The stillness of the common room, the hushed tones of classmates who used to tease and argue. Even Fred and George had grown quiet.
And somewhere beneath it all, a voice still slithered through the walls.
He heard it again late one night. Not in the dungeons, not near the library. This time, it was the second floor corridor—just outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
A hiss. A rattle. A promise.
"Kill... soon... again..."
Harry froze in place. He wasn't alone.
Snape stepped from the shadows at the end of the hallway, wand already drawn. His robes didn't rustle, his breath didn't falter.
"Potter," he said quietly. "You heard it, didn't you?"
Harry nodded. His voice had dried in his throat.
Snape didn't ask questions. He only looked down at the floor, then up at the ceiling, then to the pipes running along the stone walls. His lips were pressed into a line.
"This isn't the first time I've followed the sound tonight," he murmured. "But it always leads here."
Harry looked at the door to the bathroom. "You think Myrtle's seen something?"
Snape didn't answer. He motioned for Harry to follow and pushed the door open.
---
Inside the Bathroom
The torches flickered. Myrtle floated above the far sink, sniffling to herself.
"What do you want?" she wailed when she saw them.
Snape let Harry speak. Maybe he knew Myrtle would be more inclined to answer the boy who actually listened.
"Myrtle," Harry said gently, "did you see anything strange tonight? Hear anything?"
She sniffled. "Stranger than usual? No. Just water moving through the pipes. But…" She paused. "I did see something the other night. A shadow. Long and low, like a snake."
Snape's jaw tightened. "Where?"
She pointed at the sink. "There."
He stepped forward, eyes scanning the basin. Ancient runes were etched into the porcelain. Most students never noticed them.
"Parseltongue," Snape muttered. "Of course."
Harry frowned. "What about it?"
Snape turned, his face unreadable. "There are secrets in this castle even the headmaster dares not disturb. But you, Potter… you seem tied to them."
Harry took a cautious step forward. "You think the Chamber is connected to Myrtle's bathroom?"
Snape hesitated. Then he nodded. "I suspect it."
---
The Next Morning
At breakfast, Harry felt the weight of Draco's gaze again.
Not mocking.
Worried.
Draco didn't sit near the usual Slytherin crowd. He lingered at the end of the table, his plate untouched. When their eyes met, something flickered behind his calm exterior.
Then he got up and left without a word.
Hermione noticed. "What is going on with him?"
"He knows something," Harry said.
Ron muttered, "He always knows something. It's what he does with it that worries me."
---
Snape's Private Notes
Later that day, in his office, Snape scribbled a quick entry in a private leather-bound journal:
The creature is moving again. Potter hears it. Myrtle has seen shadows. I've requested access to the castle's sub-channels but received no response. If this continues, I will act without permission.
Draco is hiding something. Not dangerous, but personal. Emotional. I worry not for what he will do—but how he will react when it all breaks.
I must be ready.