Hogwarts was changing.
Not in the way one might expect from shifting seasons or evolving curriculums, but in the quiet, bone-deep way that sent students glancing over their shoulders and professors patrolling with their wands drawn.
There was a tension in the stones themselves.
And Severus Snape felt it every time he descended into the lower corridors.
He had already canceled three private lessons, citing "unavailable due to urgent research." In truth, his time was consumed by scouring the older blueprints of the castle, tracking the hidden paths between levels and mapping the buried plumbing of Hogwarts. The creature—whatever it was—was moving through the walls. That much was clear.
But why now?
Why these students?
And why Potter?
Snape frowned into the parchment spread across his desk. The ink trembled under the candlelight, a soft draft wafting in from the ancient bricks.
Something had awoken again.
And it was hungry.
---
Gryffindor Dormitory – Late Evening
Harry stared at the ceiling above his bed, arms folded behind his head. The canopy did nothing to quiet his thoughts. Every creak, every whisper in the wind outside, sent his nerves spiking.
He'd heard the voice again last night—low, slithering, inhuman. But no one else had.
Not even Ron, who was sleeping in the bed next to him.
Only Draco had ever claimed to hear it too.
He turned his head slightly, recalling Draco's words in the library. "You shouldn't wander alone, Potter."
But I wasn't.
Not really.
Some part of him still felt Draco's presence even when they were apart. As if their footsteps had started moving in the same direction without permission.
He closed his eyes—and dreamed of water running through endless pipes.
---
Slytherin Dormitory – The Next Morning
Draco was up early.
Too early, Pansy complained, pulling her blanket over her head. But Draco didn't explain. He simply dressed, grabbed a book, and left before the sun had fully risen.
The corridors were quiet this time of day. Peaceful. And for once, he could walk without pretending. Without acting like he wasn't watching Potter more closely than he should. Without faking indifference when Harry spoke to Snape with ease Draco had never known.
He resented it.
But he also... didn't.
That was the problem.
The contradiction had taken root inside him, growing like a weed between the cracks of everything he'd once believed.
---
The Courtyard
Classes had barely begun when the news spread: another student had been attacked.
Ernie Macmillan.
Petrified outside the Hufflepuff common room.
The panic was immediate. Screams echoed from hallways. Teachers rushed to seal off areas. Filch was beside himself.
Snape was already there when Harry arrived. His gaze snapped to the boy's pale face, but he said nothing in front of the others.
Later, in a brief, sharp moment behind a closed door, he muttered, "You need to stop wandering the castle alone."
"I wasn't," Harry said quietly.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Malfoy?"
Harry nodded.
Snape stared at him for a long moment, then turned away.
So it's begun, he thought.
---
That Night – In the Forbidden Section
Hermione, frustrated by the lack of progress, had taken matters into her own hands—sneaking into the Restricted Section with Harry under the cover of an invisibility cloak.
Ron had refused. "I'm not risking detention again—not when the whole school thinks Harry's the Heir of Slytherin."
But Harry needed answers.
And the books here whispered secrets that normal textbooks never dared print.
"You think it really is a basilisk?" Harry whispered.
Hermione nodded. "All the signs match. Movement through pipes, Petrification instead of death, the voice you're hearing…"
Harry's blood chilled.
"And if that's true," Hermione added, "then anyone who sees its eyes directly—dies."
They both fell silent.
"And Draco heard it too," Harry whispered.
Hermione's eyes widened. "Then he's in danger."