The whispering returned that night.
It slithered through the stone walls, curling through the cracks like smoke, unheard by anyone but Harry. He bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, the words still hissing in his ears.
"Come closer... closer..."
He scrambled for his wand, heart thundering. Across the room, Ron stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before rolling over. Harry glanced toward the window—only darkness and frost-laced glass stared back.
But the voice was still echoing.
Not outside.
Inside.
---
Next Morning – Breakfast in the Great Hall
"You look like you haven't slept in a week," Hermione said, passing Harry a piece of toast.
"That's because I haven't," he muttered.
Draco passed by the Gryffindor table on the way to his seat. He didn't say a word, but his eyes lingered—just for a moment—on Harry before he sat down. Harry noticed.
Hermione noticed him noticing.
"What's going on between you two?" she asked under her breath.
"Nothing," Harry said too quickly. "He's just… being weird."
"Right," Ron muttered. "And Snape suddenly likes Gryffindors."
Across the room, Snape entered the hall, sweeping toward the staff table, but his eyes swept the student body like a hawk. For a second, he lingered on Harry… and then on Draco.
He knew something.
Harry was sure of it.
---
Slytherin Common Room – Later That Day
Draco sat curled in a green velvet armchair, arms crossed, a potions book open but unread in his lap. Pansy was gossiping near the fireplace, Blaise laughed somewhere behind him—but it all blurred together.
The voice haunted him too.
He hadn't told anyone since that night outside Myrtle's bathroom. No one except… Potter.
Why him?
Draco's fingers tightened on the book.
Because Potter was the only one who didn't laugh at the idea of voices in the walls. Because Potter heard it too.
Because Potter looked back at him like he understood.
And that made things dangerous.
---
Snape's Office – That Evening
The dungeon walls were damp, torches hissing in sconces as Snape poured over a series of old architectural maps of Hogwarts.
"Pipes," he muttered.
He'd traced the movements of the attacks. Every one happened along a major artery of the castle's plumbing—ancient stone channels no one had used for centuries.
And then there was the whispering. Parseltongue.
"Potter," he said softly to himself, lips curling. "But not Potter."
He stood abruptly, grabbing his cloak. He had no proof, but his instincts were clawing at him.
Whatever haunted these walls was no ordinary curse. And he would not let it take another student.
Not this time.
---
The Corridor Outside Myrtle's Bathroom
Harry pressed his ear to the wall again. The others would call him mad. But the voice—faint, oily—was moving. It was below him. Beneath the stone.
He turned and jumped.
Draco stood a few feet away, arms crossed, a familiar crease between his brows.
"You're hearing it again, aren't you?" he asked.
Harry gave a short nod.
Draco stepped forward, voice lower now. "I heard it last night too. It said… feed."
Harry stared at him.
For the first time, Draco looked uncertain. Scared.
"What is it?" he whispered. "You've been through things. You've fought things. What talks like that?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted.
They stood in silence for a moment, only the flicker of torches filling the space between them.
Then Draco said, "I don't want to be alone when it happens again."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"If you hear it again," Draco said quietly, "come find me."
He turned and walked off before Harry could respond.
---
Snape – Beneath the Castle
The air was thick with damp and dust. Snape moved silently through the maintenance tunnels beneath the school—areas even Filch rarely ventured into. His wand illuminated worn stone walls, etched with signs older than the founders.
And then—he heard it.
A hiss.
Soft.
Hungry.
He froze.
The voice wasn't in English. But he recognized the shape of the sounds. Parseltongue.
Snape raised his wand higher, the light trembling.
Something large scraped in the shadows beyond.
The floor beneath him shifted. A vibration.
He took one step back. Then another.
He would need to act fast.
---
Gryffindor Common Room – Midnight
Harry tossed in bed, then sat up with a gasp.
The voice was back.
"I smell blood... I smell fear…"
He bolted from the dormitory, grabbing his cloak.