The next morning, the sky over Hogwarts was grey and heavy. Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance, echoing through the hills. It wasn't raining yet, but it would. Everyone could feel it.
Inside the castle, the atmosphere was no better.
Rumors ran wild—another attack was expected. Some said it would be during the next Quidditch match. Others whispered about secret tunnels and vanishing students. No one knew the truth, but everyone was afraid of it.
And Harry had that feeling again.
The one that twisted behind his ribs, warning him before anything happened.
---
Library
Hermione slammed a book shut.
"There's nothing," she muttered. "Nothing useful. Just vague mentions of the Chamber and the Heir of Slytherin."
Ron yawned. "Well, maybe there is no Chamber. Maybe it's just a bunch of ghosts scaring first-years."
Hermione gave him a look. "The school's under attack, Ronald."
Harry wasn't listening.
His eyes were fixed on the far end of the library.
Draco had just entered, hood drawn, book hugged to his chest. He scanned the room and froze when he saw Harry watching him.
Their eyes locked.
And then, slowly—cautiously—Draco walked over.
Hermione sat up straighter. Ron dropped his quill.
But Draco stopped a few feet from their table and looked directly at Harry.
"I need to talk to you. Alone."
---
The Corridor Outside
Harry followed him to a quiet stretch of hallway just outside the History of Magic classroom.
Draco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, avoiding eye contact.
"I heard it again," he said softly. "Last night. The voice. It was near the entrance to the Prefect's Bathroom."
Harry frowned. "Did you tell Snape?"
Draco hesitated. "I told you."
That landed like a brick in Harry's chest.
Draco exhaled sharply, still not looking at him. "I know you don't trust me. I wouldn't either. But if something happens—if they try to blame me—"
"They won't," Harry said quietly.
Draco's head snapped up.
Harry stepped closer. "You're not the same person you were last year. I see it. Snape sees it. Even Hermione sees it."
"Not Weasley," Draco muttered bitterly.
Harry smiled faintly. "He'll come around."
There was a long pause. Then Draco said, voice barely above a whisper: "I'm scared."
Harry nodded. "So am I."
---
Snape's Office – Later
Snape watched the door close after Draco and Harry had left. He had heard every word from the shadows.
He moved to his desk and unfurled a long map of the castle—the ancient one with faint inked corridors that weren't on the regular blueprints.
One of them curved beneath the Prefect's Bathroom.
He marked it with a flick of his wand.
There.
Whatever was happening—it was spreading. Moving through the old bones of the school. Using passages no one else remembered.
But Snape remembered. And he knew it wasn't finished yet.
---
That Night
Thunder finally broke.
Rain lashed against the castle windows, wild and cold.
Harry lay awake in his four-poster bed, eyes fixed on the dark canopy above. The voice hadn't returned tonight—but he dreamed of it. Cold, whispering in a tongue he didn't understand.
He sat up, heart pounding.
In the silence, something felt wrong.
He pulled on his cloak and crept downstairs.
The common room was empty except for Crookshanks sleeping by the fire.
But when Harry opened the portrait hole and stepped into the corridor—he saw movement.
A figure ahead.
Running.
He followed without thinking.
---
The Chase
He caught up at the stairs near the trophy room.
It was Draco.
The blonde boy was barefoot, robe flapping behind him, and his face was pale.
"Draco!"
Draco turned, startled. "You followed me?"
"You're sleepwalking," Harry said. "What's going on?"
"I don't—" Draco looked lost. "I heard the voice. It pulled me out of bed. I didn't mean to—"
"Come on," Harry said, grabbing his arm. "We're going to Snape."
"But—"
"No 'but.' Let's go."
---
Snape's Quarters – Moments Later
Snape opened the door instantly, as if he had been waiting. His eyes flicked over Draco and then Harry, and his jaw tightened.
"In."
Draco sat down in the armchair like he was about to be expelled.
Harry stood nearby, uncertain.
Snape knelt in front of Draco.
"Describe it," he said. "The voice."
Draco closed his eyes. "It was… cold. Ancient. It wasn't calling me this time—it was talking about someone. About… purging."
Snape stood slowly.
"Get back to your dormitory, Potter."
"But—"
"Now."
Snape's voice brooked no argument.
Harry glanced once more at Draco, who looked impossibly small in the large chair.
Then he left.