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The room had turned bitterly cold as night fell."I can't take this anymore," Ron muttered, his teeth chattering.Just then, the band started screeching again, and ghosts big and small floated back to the dance floor.
"Let's go," Augustus agreed.
They made their way to the exit, nodding and smiling politely at everyone who looked their way. A minute later, they were hurrying down a dimly lit corridor lined with black candles.
"Maybe the pudding's still out," Ron said hopefully, leading the way toward the stairs to the entrance hall.
As they walked through the narrow passage, Harry suddenly came to a halt. He staggered, grabbing the stone wall to steady himself, listening hard. His eyes scanned up and down the dim hallway, squinting into the shadows.
"Harry, what's—?"
"There it is again—shh, don't talk—"
"A voice?" Augustus glanced around. Seeing nothing unusual, he looked at Harry with a puzzled expression.
"Listen!" Harry urged. Ron and Hermione froze, staring at him.Seeing how serious Harry was, Augustus pulled out his silver wand and cast a spell to enhance his hearing. He held his breath and listened closely. Faint, meaningless hissing noises reached his ears.
"There is a sound," Augustus nodded. "Seems to be coming from the ceiling. A ghost, maybe? But it's just senseless hissing."
"It's someone's voice," Harry said quickly. "I swear it is. It said... kill... it's time..."
Augustus kept listening, still hearing only strange snarls that didn't make sense.
The voice was fading. Harry was sure of it—it was moving—upward."This way!" he shouted and took off running, bolting up the stairs and into the entrance hall. The sounds of the Halloween feast echoed from the Great Hall—laughing, cheering—too loud to hear anything else.
Harry raced up the marble staircase to the second floor. Augustus, Ron, and Hermione were right behind him.
"If we're all hearing the same voice, even if we hear different things, then the source must be higher up. Follow me," Augustus said, convinced.
They bounded up another flight of stairs, Augustus straining to catch any hint of the sound through his heavy footsteps.
The four of them tore through the third floor, checking every corner. Ron and Hermione were gasping for breath, struggling to keep up. Finally, they turned a corner and entered an empty corridor.
"Mr. Augustus, Harry—what the hell is going on?" Ron panted, wiping sweat off his forehead. "I don't hear a damn thing..."
Hermione suddenly gasped and pointed down the hallway.
"Look!"
Something was gleaming on the wall ahead. They moved closer, squinting in the dark to make it out. Between two windows, about a foot above the ground, glowing words had been smeared on the wall, shimmering faintly in the flickering torchlight.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.
Enemies of the heir, beware.
"What's that... hanging underneath?" Ron asked, his voice shaking.
They cautiously moved closer. Harry almost slipped—there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Ron and Hermione grabbed him just in time.
Step by step, they approached the glowing message, eyes locked on the dark shape below it. Then all three of them realized what it was and jumped back in horror, splashing water everywhere.
It was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat. She was hanging by her tail from a torch bracket, body stiff as a board, eyes wide open and staring. The three of them stood frozen for several seconds before Ron finally said, "We've gotta get out of here."
"Shouldn't we try to help—" Harry started, his voice unsteady.
"She's been petrified, by the looks of it," Augustus said with a complicated expression, staring at the poor cat. "If that's all it is, there's still a chance to save her."
"Look, we don't want to be caught here," Ron said quickly.
But it was already too late.
A deep rumble, like distant thunder, signaled the end of the feast. Footsteps echoed from both ends of the hallway—dozens, maybe hundreds, of students coming up the stairs, laughing and talking loudly after a good meal. Seconds later, the corridor was swarming with students pouring in from both ends.
As soon as the ones in front spotted the cat hanging there, the buzzing chatter cut off instantly. Augustus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were left standing alone in the middle of the hall. The crowd hushed and pushed forward to see what had happened.
In the thick silence, a voice rang out clearly.
"Enemies of the heir, beware! You're next, Mudblood!" It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed his way to the front, his cold eyes gleaming. His normally pale face was flushed, and a twisted grin spread across his face as he stared at the stiff, lifeless cat.
"What's going on here? What happened?" Filch, clearly drawn by Malfoy's shouting, came shoving through the crowd. Then he saw her—Mrs. Norris. He stumbled back a few steps, hands flying to his face in horror.
"My cat! My cat! What happened to her?" he screamed. Then his bulging eyes landed on Harry."YOU!" he screeched. "YOU! You killed my cat! YOU KILLED HER! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL—"
"Mr. Filch, be careful. Accusing a student without evidence is a serious matter," Augustus said calmly.
"It was him! I know it!" Filch sobbed, breaking down completely.The crowd of students looked on, uneasy and sympathetic, now staring at Harry like he was some kind of monster.
Dumbledore arrived on the scene, with several other teachers right behind him. In a flash, he had passed Harry, Ron, and Hermione and gently lifted Mrs. Norris down from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Filch," he said quietly. "And you too—Mr. Augustus, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."
Lockhart came striding up, practically glowing with excitement.
"My office is just upstairs, Headmaster—very convenient—you can—"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said.
The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, clearly thrilled to be involved, strutted after Dumbledore. McGonagall and Snape followed too.
Before leaving, Augustus glanced back at the wall where the message had been scrawled and the puddle of water that still hadn't been cleaned up. His face grew thoughtful.
The scene was like a massive web, rearranging and hiding every clue it touched. Somewhere in the fog of confusion, a crucial, deadly thread was just barely visible—hidden beneath layers of mystery.
"....."