It started with a scream.
Not from the dungeons, not from the towers—but from the second-floor corridor. Sharp, shrill, and unmistakably human.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just left Charms when they heard it. All three took off running without a word. The crowd was already forming when they arrived, but they pushed through until they saw—
Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Frozen mid-stride. Eyes wide. Mouth parted as if gasping. Stone still.
Petrified.
Again.
The second.
Hermione knelt beside him immediately. "Same as Mrs. Norris," she murmured. "Petrification."
A Ravenclaw girl nearby was shaking. "He was just walking down the corridor! And then—and then—this awful sound—"
Harry's blood turned cold.
He had heard it too.
That hissing voice. Whispering. Not with words. Just hunger.
It had come from the walls.
From the pipes.
---
Later that day, Snape stood before the staff, arms crossed tightly.
"This cannot continue," he said, voice sharp as flint. "Two victims now. There will be more."
Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Pomona is confident the Mandrakes will be ready in time."
"In time for what?" Snape snapped. "A third? A fourth? We should close the school."
"That decision is not ours alone," said McGonagall, frowning.
"We cannot ignore the danger—"
"And we're not," Dumbledore interrupted softly. "But fear will not serve us better than preparation."
Snape didn't argue again. But when he sat, his jaw was clenched.
He had almost lost Harry once.
He wouldn't let it happen again.
---
Meanwhile, Harry wandered the castle with Ron and Hermione in tense silence. Every whisper in the walls now felt louder. Every pipe hummed with something sinister.
"I think it's coming from the plumbing," Hermione whispered.
Ron looked horrified. "What, like—like there's a monster crawling through the pipes?"
Harry nodded slowly. "It talks. It's not just moving."
"That's… very bad."
Hermione stopped short. "I need the library. I have an idea."
Ron sighed. "Of course you do."
She disappeared around the corner, leaving the boys alone.
Harry glanced sideways at Ron. "You still think I'm imagining it?"
Ron hesitated. Then muttered, "No. I just don't like where it's going."
Harry didn't either.
---
That evening, Harry went to the trophy room. Alone. He didn't mean to—his feet just took him there. The light was low, shadows stretching across the glass cases.
And then he heard it again.
The voice.
"Rip… tear… kill…"
It slithered through the stone, deep and ancient.
Harry's heart pounded.
He ran.
Down corridors, past staircases—chasing the sound, not knowing why. Until—
He turned the corner and nearly slammed into someone.
"Potter?"
Draco.
For once, Draco didn't sneer. His face was pale.
"You heard it too," Harry breathed.
Draco didn't answer.
Then—quietly—he nodded.
---
Down in the dungeons, Snape prepared for the evening patrol when a charm alerted him.
A student, out of bed.
Two, actually.
He moved swiftly, cloak sweeping behind him.
He found them near the entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom—Harry and Draco, both out of breath, both looking too serious for troublemakers.
"Explain," he snapped.
Harry opened his mouth. "There was a voice—"
"In the walls," Draco finished, surprising both of them.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Both of you. Office. Now."
---
In Snape's office, silence reigned.
The two boys sat side by side. Draco looked tense, arms crossed. Harry stared at the floor.
"You both heard it," Snape said at last.
They nodded.
"Describe it."
"Hissing," Harry said.
"Like a snake," Draco added. "But… not like a real one. More like… something pretending."
Snape stood still, then slowly sat.
Parseltongue.
But that meant…
He studied the boys. Something between them had changed. Draco wasn't sneering. Harry wasn't guarded. They looked like… allies.
Snape didn't like that. Not because it was dangerous—but because it was fragile. And anything fragile in this castle never lasted long.
"You're both confined to quarters for tonight," he said flatly. "And not a word of this to anyone."
"But—" Harry started.
"Not. A word."
Snape's voice was final.
As they left, he whispered a spell to seal the door.
Then, for the first time in years, he sat down hard in his chair, staring at nothing.
The Chamber was stirring again.
And this time, it wasn't just Harry who was in danger.