Snape's Office – The Following Afternoon
A cold wind howled against the windowpanes of Snape's office as Harry and Draco stepped inside. Snape didn't greet them. He simply gestured to two chairs, his back to the fire, fingers steepled under his chin.
The tension was thicker than the shadows.
Harry sat first. Draco followed, though his eyes flicked around as if half-expecting a trap.
Snape studied them. "Tell me everything. From the moment you heard the voice."
Harry recounted it quickly—how they'd heard it in the Charms corridor, how it seemed to lead them away from the attack. Snape didn't interrupt. He only narrowed his eyes at certain moments. Draco filled in the gaps, voice quieter but no less clear.
When they were done, Snape stood.
"You were right," he said grimly. "It didn't just want to kill. It wanted privacy. It manipulated you."
"Then it's thinking," Harry said. "Like a person."
Snape turned sharply. "More like a memory that's learned to evolve. And that makes it more dangerous than you realize."
He pulled out a map from his drawer—an old blueprint of Hogwarts.
"The original pipes extend far deeper than most know. I believe the entrance lies somewhere connected to Myrtle Warren's death."
"The bathroom," Draco said slowly. "The one she haunts."
Harry stood. "We've been there. Myrtle told us she saw eyes… yellow ones."
Snape's fingers curled. "Then we're closer than we've ever been."
He turned to face them fully.
"But I won't involve you further. You've done enough."
Harry bristled. "You said it yourself—it's reacting to us."
Snape met his eyes. "Which is precisely why I'm telling you not to chase it. If you're bait, you must stay still."
"That's not what bait does," Draco muttered.
Snape glared. "Malfoy—"
"I'm not saying we want to fight it," Draco said, standing too. "But we can't pretend we're not in the middle of this."
Snape closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his voice was like frost. "Fine. But if either of you gets in my way, I will pull you out of Hogwarts. I don't care what Dumbledore says."
---
Later – Gryffindor Common Room
Ron was pacing. Hermione sat by the fireplace, clutching a worn book with frayed corners.
"You're telling me Snape is letting you help him?" Ron hissed. "Snape?"
"He didn't say 'help.' He said 'don't get in the way,'" Harry corrected.
Hermione frowned. "That's practically permission."
Ron looked torn between worry and horror. "This is insane. You're working with Malfoy, and now Snape? What's next—inviting Voldemort for tea?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "It's not about sides anymore. It's about what's happening in this school."
Hermione nodded. "And if Snape thinks Myrtle's bathroom is the key, we need to go there."
Ron shuddered. "That place gives me the creeps."
"That's the point," Harry muttered.
---
Slytherin Dormitory – That Night
Draco sat on his bed, a folded parchment in hand. He stared at it as though it might catch fire. His mind churned with too many thoughts—Harry's determination, the flicker of fear in Snape's voice, the realization that whatever lived in the Chamber knew them.
He unfolded the parchment slowly.
It was the map Hermione had shown Harry—her "attack arc."
He traced the path of the dots with one finger.
It curved… and looped back…
To them.
He closed the map and stuffed it into his satchel.
If Snape wouldn't find the Chamber fast enough—they would.
---
Myrtle's Bathroom – After Midnight
Harry crept through the corridor with his Invisibility Cloak draped over himself and Draco. The two moved carefully, ducking behind statues and under torchlight.
When they reached the bathroom, Harry tapped the door and whispered, "Alohomora."
It creaked open.
Myrtle hovered over the sink basin, humming gloomily to herself.
"Oh, it's you again," she said, pouting. "Come to drown yourselves, have you?"
"Not tonight," Harry said. "We need to ask you something."
Myrtle sniffed. "You always need something."
Draco stepped forward. "The night you died—where were you standing?"
She blinked. "Right there." She pointed at the sink.
Harry walked over, studying it.
No handles. Just an old, rusted faucet, scratched with an engraving.
"A snake," he said.
Draco stepped beside him. "Try speaking to it."
Harry hesitated.
Then he leaned forward and whispered in Parseltongue.
The sink shuddered.
With a grinding groan, the basin slid back, revealing a dark tunnel leading straight into the floor.
The entrance.
Draco took a sharp breath. "Bloody hell."
---
Snape's Office – Simultaneously
Snape jolted upright from his chair.
The magic. It had shifted.
It was moving now.
He threw open his drawer and grabbed his wand.
"Potter," he hissed, "what did you do?"