Draco stood before the mirror in the Slytherin dormitory, its frame etched in faint silver patterns that shimmered under torchlight. He hadn't meant for Harry to ever figure out where it came from, let alone what it did. Yet something deep inside him—it had wanted to be seen.
To be understood.
And now, it was happening.
He hadn't slept all night. His mind kept replaying the moment in the library. The flicker in Harry's expression. The way he hadn't looked away. The way neither of them had.
He gripped the edge of the table.
What had he done?
---
The Next Morning – Great Hall
The chill in the castle hadn't gone away. The Hall buzzed with cautious voices and watchful eyes, as though everyone knew the walls were listening.
Harry entered later than usual, his robes slightly askew, and headed straight for the Gryffindor table. His eyes found Draco automatically across the room.
Draco looked away.
"Still not talking to you?" Ron muttered, tearing into toast.
Harry sighed. "We were never really… talking. Not like that."
Hermione passed him a parchment. "Forget Malfoy for a second. Look at this. I've been mapping the time of every attack and every voice you've heard."
Harry blinked at the chart. "These dots… they form a curve."
"An arc," Hermione corrected. "If I'm right, whatever is doing this—it's circling something. It keeps returning to the same origin point."
Ron frowned. "So what's in the center of the circle?"
Hermione pointed. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."
---
Later – Snape's Office
Snape glanced up as Harry entered. He didn't ask why he had come. He already knew.
"You felt it again, didn't you?" Snape said, moving to close the door with a flick of his wand.
Harry sat, his voice low. "The mirror pulsed. Not just once this time."
Snape's expression tightened.
"You know where it came from," Harry said.
"Yes."
"Draco."
Snape didn't confirm it. He didn't need to.
Harry swallowed. "Why would he give me something like that?"
"Perhaps," Snape said, his voice soft and sharp like a blade's edge, "because he doesn't know what he wants. Or perhaps he does—and it frightens him."
Harry stared at the floor.
Snape crossed his arms. "Whatever your relationship is with Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you tread carefully. Not because of him—but because of what you both stand near."
Harry looked up. "You mean the chamber?"
Snape nodded. "The monster is not just hunting. It is reacting. It stirs where emotions are strongest. Fear. Guilt. Shame."
"So it's connected to feelings?"
"To memory," Snape said grimly. "To the past. And perhaps… to certain bloodlines."
---
Slytherin Corridor – After Dusk
Draco didn't mean to run into Harry. He turned a corner fast, robes whipping around him, and nearly collided with Potter coming the other way.
They both froze.
"You've been avoiding me," Harry said, breathing hard.
Draco's jaw tightened. "Not avoiding. Just… staying away."
"That's the same thing."
"Potter, I—" Draco exhaled, staring past him, trying to will the words out. "I shouldn't have given you the mirror."
"I didn't ask for it," Harry said, "but I didn't throw it away, either."
Draco looked at him then, raw and uncertain. "Why not?"
Harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Because you're weird. And I guess I don't mind it."
Draco's lips quirked into something almost like a smile.
Then, from behind them—
A sound.
A voice.
Both boys froze.
It was faint. Slithering. A hiss in the dark.
"I hear it," Harry whispered.
Draco stiffened. "Me too."
They spun, backs pressed to each other.
"Where is it coming from?" Draco hissed.
Harry turned, eyes searching the empty hallway. "It's in the pipes again."
Draco grabbed Harry's arm. "Let's go."
And they ran.
---
Meanwhile – Snape's Private Study
Snape was already pulling on his cloak when the sound of pounding footsteps echoed up the corridor. A frantic fourth-year Hufflepuff stumbled in, breathless.
"Professor! Another student—by the stairwell near the dungeons!"
Snape didn't wait for permission. He swept past the boy, fury and dread boiling in his chest.
Not again.
---
The Scene – Dungeon Corridor
A small crowd had already gathered. Filch was wringing his hands. A portrait nearby wept noisily. The girl—third year, curly-haired Ravenclaw—was frozen in place, eyes wide with horror.
Snape arrived seconds before McGonagall.
She looked at him sharply. "It's spreading."
He knelt beside the girl, wand drawn. "She's still warm. Recent."
He stood, jaw clenched. "The creature passed this way minutes ago."
From behind him, a cold voice said, "So did two students."
Snape turned. It was Filch.
"I saw Potter and Malfoy running this direction," he said quickly. "Together."
Snape didn't answer. His thoughts spun.
He needed to find them.
Now.
---
The Clock Tower – Moments Later
Harry and Draco stopped, panting, the chamber doors behind them slamming shut.
"I swear it was right behind us," Harry gasped.
Draco leaned on the wall, heart pounding. "It sounded like it was… chasing us."
Then Draco looked up.
"What if it wasn't following us?" he said.
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What if it was leading us away?"
They exchanged a long look.
And both ran for the dungeons.
---
Snape's Office – After Midnight
When the door creaked open, Snape didn't look up from the stack of parchments.
"I told you to go to your dormitories."
Harry entered first. Draco followed.
"We didn't do it," Harry said.
"I know," Snape said, surprising both of them.
"You do?" Draco asked, wary.
"I felt the magic. It wasn't yours. But I need you two to stop chasing shadows. Let me chase them."
Harry stepped forward. "We're not going to stand by and wait."
Snape's voice hardened. "If it finds you—"
"We already found it," Harry said. "Near the clock tower. And it… wanted us to leave the area."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Which means it was about to attack."
The boys nodded.
Snape muttered a curse under his breath and strode to the shelves, pulling down an old black book.
"We need to talk about the Chamber. Tomorrow. After classes. Don't be late."