The frost in the air had deepened by morning. Windows had begun to fog from within, the warmth of the castle doing little to soften the icy atmosphere between students. Accusations no longer whispered—they hissed.
And always, they circled back to Harry.
---
Potions Class
The dungeon classroom buzzed with low voices until Snape's robes swept into view. He didn't speak at first—only scanned the room with his usual calculating glare.
But Harry noticed something different.
The professor's eyes lingered on him a second too long… then flicked to Draco.
"Settle down," Snape finally said, voice like silk over ice. "Today we will be brewing Mandragora Restorative Draught. It is the only known cure for Petrification."
There was a shift in the room—uneasy, anxious.
"Your ability to brew this correctly," Snape continued, "may determine whether your classmates recover."
Ron paled beside Harry. "No pressure, huh?"
Draco sat two rows ahead. He didn't turn around. But Harry could tell—he was listening.
When class ended, Snape stopped Harry at the door.
"Stay a moment."
Harry stiffened but nodded to Ron and Hermione, who lingered reluctantly.
Snape waited until the room cleared.
"You've heard it again, haven't you?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Last night. By the second-floor stairwell."
"Was Draco with you?"
"No," Harry said, then hesitated. "But I saw him after."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "Keep him close."
Harry blinked. "Why?"
Snape's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Because sometimes the people who aren't targets… are bait."
---
Slytherin Common Room – That Evening
Draco sat by the window, watching snowflakes collect against the thick, green-tinted glass. His thoughts buzzed restlessly.
He wasn't used to feeling uncertain. He was a Malfoy.
But something about all of this—the attacks, the silence in the pipes, the way Snape kept watching him—made his skin itch.
When a shadow moved beside him, he flinched slightly—only to realize it was Harry.
"I didn't think Gryffindors were allowed down here," Draco said coolly, masking surprise with sarcasm.
"I'm not," Harry said. "But Snape let me in."
Draco frowned. "Why?"
"Because he thinks something's going to happen soon."
There was silence.
"I wanted to make sure you're okay," Harry added.
Draco didn't reply right away.
Then—"I'm not," he admitted.
And the honesty surprised them both.
---
Elsewhere – Forbidden Section of the Library
Hermione traced her finger along the spine of a book she wasn't supposed to have. Its cover was bound in faded scales—enchanted serpent leather.
She didn't dare take it out, only flipped it open between other "acceptable" reading materials.
Inside, she found diagrams of magical tunnels. Old spells for warding basilisks. And notes about magical voices that only certain bloodlines could hear.
A chill passed over her.
"It's not about being a Parselmouth," she whispered to herself. "It's about what you are when you hear it."
---
Snape's Office – Late Night
Snape stood over a map of Hogwarts. Red ink marked locations of each Petrification. He drew a line between them.
The path formed a curve.
No—a spiral.
Centered beneath the castle.
The Chamber.
But Snape didn't reach for his wand. He reached for a locked drawer in his desk. From it, he pulled an old ring. Twisted silver, engraved with ancient runes. A relic from his own time as a student.
He slid it onto his finger slowly.
"Not again," he whispered. "I won't let history repeat."
---
Outside the Library – Midnight
Harry leaned against the stone archway, arms crossed. He didn't flinch when Draco joined him.
"Did you find anything?" Draco asked quietly.
Harry nodded. "Hermione's onto something. We think it's connected to the plumbing."
Draco sighed. "So it really is under the school."
"Looks like it."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Draco said, "If you get caught sneaking around again, Weasley's going to have a stroke."
Harry snorted. "He already thinks I've gone mad."
"Maybe you have," Draco said softly. "But you're not alone."
Harry looked at him. "Neither are you."
And for a moment, neither boy looked away.