human again / hp.

Chapter 28

The castle felt almost too quiet as the four of us—Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and I—made our way back to our common rooms after dinner. The dim torchlight cast flickering shadows across the cold stone walls, and our footsteps echoed in the long corridors, blending with the occasional murmur from distant students. Draco, as usual, was holding court, his voice animated as he critiqued the school's latest absurdity.

"I'm telling you," he said, gesturing theatrically with one hand "Lockhart couldn't defend a puffskein, let alone a school full of witches and wizards. Did you hear him in class today? He actually thought we'd take him seriously."

Crabbe and Goyle let out their predictable guffaws, though it was clear they hadn't been paying much attention to the lesson. I smiled faintly but didn't add much to the conversation. My thoughts kept wandering, drawn to the strange hum of unease that seemed to settle over the castle lately, like a storm brewing just out of sight.

We turned a corner into a broader hallway, the sound of voices growing louder ahead. I stopped mid-step, sensing a change in the atmosphere. Something wasn't right.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, my voice low.

Draco paused, frowning slightly. "What—?"

He broke off as the murmur of anxious voices swelled into a collective gasp. We pushed forward, curiosity overriding caution, and as the corridor widened, the source of the commotion came into view.

My breath caught in my throat.

Scrawled across the stone wall in glistening, dripping letters was a message that seemed to bleed menace:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

The red gleam of the words caught the flickering light of the nearby torches, and the metallic tang in the air confirmed what my mind refused to believe at first. Blood.

Beneath the terrifying message, Mrs. Norris, the caretaker Filch's cat, hung suspended by her tail, her body stiff and lifeless. Her glassy, unblinking eyes stared into nothingness, her mouth slightly agape in a silent scream.

The crowd of students that had gathered around the scene was eerily quiet, their whispers barely audible under the heavy weight of fear. A third-year Hufflepuff near me muttered, "It's—it's blood, isn't it?" before trailing off, her voice trembling.

"What the—" Goyle started to say, but Draco cut him off with a sharp motion of his hand.

Draco's face was pale, though his lips still curled into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "This is getting interesting," he muttered under his breath, trying to mask the unease that even he couldn't hide completely.

My eyes darted across the crowd and landed on three familiar figures near the center: Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They were standing closest to the writing, their expressions a mix of shock, confusion, and—was it guilt? Hermione's hand gripped Harry's arm as though grounding herself, while Ron's face looked distinctly green.

""Enemies of the Heir, beware."" Draco said loudly, his voice cutting through the uneasy murmurs. He stepped forward, drawing the attention of several nearby students. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

Harry's head whipped around to face him, his green eyes blazing. For a moment, he looked like he was about to retort, but before he could say anything, a shrill, familiar voice shattered the tension.

"What's going on here? Go on, make way, make way."

Filch barreled through the crowd, shoving students aside with wild, frantic gestures. His small, beady eyes widened in horror as he reached the center of the scene and spotted Mrs. Norris. He let out a strangled cry that echoed off the walls.

"My cat!" he wailed, dropping to his knees beside her lifeless body. "Mrs. Norris! What have they done to you?"

The raw anguish in his voice sent an uncomfortable ripple through the gathered crowd. I stepped back instinctively, my gaze darting to the floor to avoid looking at the poor animal—or at Filch's grief.

But then Filch's head snapped up, and his gaze locked on Harry like a curse. His bony finger shot out, trembling as he jabbed it in Harry's direction. "Potter..." he bellowed, his voice filled with venom. "You murdered my cat."

Gasps and murmurs erupted again, students looking at Harry with wide, questioning eyes. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, a calm yet commanding voice sliced through the noise.

" Argus?"

Professor Dumbledore's presence was like a wave washing over the corridor. The crowd parted almost instinctively as he approached, his long silver beard catching the faint torchlight. Behind him trailed Professors McGonagall, Snape, and, to my growing irritation, Lockhart, who looked far too thrilled to be part of the moment.

Dumbledore's piercing gaze swept over the scene, taking in the bloody writing, the petrified cat, and the huddled students. "Everyone," he said, his tone calm but firm, "Everyone will proceed to their dormitories immediately."

The students hesitated, casting glances back at the wall and at Harry, but McGonagall's sharp glare was enough to send most of them scurrying. Only a few of us lingered near the edges, reluctant to leave the spectacle behind.

"Everyone except you three." Dumbledore said, stopping Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they tried to move with the crowd. His calm demeanor didn't waver, but there was an undeniable weight in his voice.

Draco tugged on my sleeve, leaning in close. "Come on," he whispered, though his eyes were glued to the professors inspecting the wall.

Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be pulled away, but my thoughts churned as we descended towards our common rooms. The words on the wall burned in my mind, every letter as vivid as if I'd just read them.

The Chamber of Secrets. The Heir. Enemies.

As Draco rambled about the scene we'd just witnessed, theorizing in his usual snide tone about Potter's involvement, I found myself thinking about Harry, Hermione, and Ron. I thought about the raw fear in Hermione's eyes, the tight set of Harry's jaw, and the way Ron had looked like he might collapse under the weight of it all. Were they hiding something? Or did they just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Draco's voice broke into my thoughts, his smirk audible even without seeing it. "Well," he said with exaggerated smugness, "so much for Hogwarts being safe. This year's going to be very interesting."

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as I disappeared into the Gryffindor common room. But despite Draco's bravado, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that whatever had just begun was far bigger—and far more dangerous—than any of us realized.