Chapter 33
The cold air of the castle felt unnatural against my skin.
It should have been a relief—to be out of that cursed place, to feel the steady warmth of the torches lining the corridors, to hear the distant murmur of Hogwarts alive around us. But the weight in my chest didn’t ease. It pressed against my ribs, thick and unrelenting, curling around my magic like an invisible chain.
We had left the Chamber.
But something had followed us.
I could feel it.
And I wasn’t the only one.
Harry’s grip on his wand was still too tight. Ginny kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she expected the shadows to move. Ron’s wolf Eidolon bristled at nothing, ears flicking at sounds no one else could hear. Even Solara—steady, radiant Solara—flickered dimly on my shoulder, wings tucked too tightly against her body.
Then there was Draco.
He walked beside me, his pace slower than usual, his movements careful. Too careful. Like he was measuring each step, like he wasn’t entirely sure his body would cooperate. His face was pale, set in a neutral mask that was meant to look indifferent—but I knew better.
I had been watching him since the moment that thing had let him go.
I still felt the ghost of his weight against me, the sharp panic that had gripped my chest when his body had collapsed against mine. He was still shaking. Only slightly, just the barest tremor in his fingers, but I saw it.
And I hated that I didn’t know why.
Something had happened to him down there.
Something he wasn’t telling me.
I wanted to stop, to demand answers, to reach for him again—but now wasn’t the time. We needed to get out of here. We needed to breathe.
We reached the stairs leading up from the lower levels of the castle, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets sealed once again behind us. A finality that should have brought comfort.
It didn’t.
No one spoke as we ascended. No one dared.
The weight of what had happened in that place lingered in every footstep, in every sharp inhale, in every careful glance exchanged in the dim torchlight.
It was Ron who finally broke the silence.
“Well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head, “I vote we never do that again.”
Ginny snorted, though it lacked her usual fire. “Agreed.”
Harry, who had been eerily quiet, exhaled through his nose. “We need to tell McGonagall.”
I nodded, already running through everything I would need to say. What we had found. What had attacked us. What it had said.
But there was one thing I wasn’t sure I could explain.
How it had known Harry.
How it had spoken to him like it had been waiting.
Like he was always meant to return.
I glanced at him, taking in the tension still carved into his features. His jaw was clenched, his gaze distant, his breathing controlled in a way that wasn’t natural.
He was shaken.
Harry never let things shake him. Not like this.
“Harry—” I started, but he shook his head.
“Not here.” His voice was tight. “Not yet.”
I understood. Too many ears. Too many questions we weren’t ready to answer.
The walls of Hogwarts listened. I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted them anymore.
We finally emerged into one of the main corridors, the familiarity of the castle’s grand halls pressing in around us.
And yet, the relief never came.
Because I still felt it.
The thing we had disturbed.
It wasn’t gone.
It had merely stepped aside.
For now.
The silence stretched between us as we moved, each footstep swallowed by the castle’s vastness. The others were speaking—Harry muttering to Ron, their words an indistinct hum—but I barely heard them. My focus remained locked on the lingering weight in the air, the sensation of something unseen still watching, waiting. And on Draco. Because whatever had shifted in the darkness of the Chamber hadn’t stayed behind. It had followed us. And it had settled into him.
He was quiet. Too quiet.
Tenebris, usually a constant shadow at his side, moved with more caution than usual. He was staying closer, his sharp golden eyes darting over Draco like he was expecting something to happen.
Draco himself hadn’t spoken since we’d left the Chamber.
He hadn’t snapped at Ron’s sarcasm. He hadn’t scoffed at Harry’s endless brooding. He hadn’t even made some sharp-edged comment about the fact that we had all nearly died.
It was unlike him.
And it terrified me.
I needed to know what had happened.
What had changed.
But now wasn’t the time.
I forced myself to focus, to keep my breathing even as we neared the entrance to McGonagall’s office.
One thing at a time.
The corridor stretched ahead, lined with towering suits of armor and flickering torches, but I barely saw any of it. My thoughts kept circling back, caught on the way Draco moved—slow, measured, like he was fighting something I couldn’t see. Like he was dragging something unseen along with him.
I clenched my fists. Now wasn’t the time. We needed to get to McGonagall’s office first, to tell her what had happened. To figure out what to do next.
Harry and Ron walked ahead, their voices hushed, tension lacing every word. Tenebris stayed close to Draco’s side, his golden eyes sharp and watchful. I tried not to stare, tried not to think about what it meant that his Eidolon had shifted so suddenly.
But I saw the way Draco’s fingers twitched at his side.
The way his jaw locked.
The way he avoided looking at me.
A chill crawled down my spine as we reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to McGonagall’s office. Harry muttered the password, and the statue shifted aside, revealing the winding staircase beyond.
One thing at a time, I reminded myself.
We stepped onto the moving steps, the castle’s magic carrying us upward.
The spiral staircase carried us up to McGonagall’s office, the weight of everything we had seen pressing down harder with each step.
The door opened before we knocked.
She had been waiting.
Her sharp eyes flicked over each of us as we entered, assessing, taking in every detail. The dust still clinging to our clothes. The dried blood on Harry’s sleeve. The way Draco swayed just slightly before catching himself.
I watched her expression shift.
She knew something had happened.
I opened my mouth, ready to explain, but she beat me to it.
“Sit,” she said, her voice carrying no room for argument.
We obeyed.
Draco hesitated before lowering himself into the chair beside me, his movements slow, deliberate. I bit my lip, holding back the urge to reach for him.
McGonagall’s gaze settled on Harry first.
“What did you find?”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Harry exhaled. “Something was down there.”
Her expression remained carefully neutral. “Something?”
He nodded, rubbing a hand over his face before letting it drop to his lap. “It was waiting for me.”
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
McGonagall inhaled sharply, fingers steepling in front of her as she studied him. Then, slowly, her gaze shifted to Draco.
I felt him stiffen beside me.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And you?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”
A blatant lie.
She saw through it just as easily as I did, her gaze flicking over him like she could see the way his hands trembled, the way his shoulders were too tense, the way his magic still felt off.
She didn’t push.
Not yet.
Instead, she straightened, her expression unreadable.
“What did it say?”
Harry’s throat bobbed. “It knew me. It said…” He hesitated, then, with quiet finality, “It said I couldn’t outrun my own bloodline.”
A beat of silence.
McGonagall’s lips pressed together.
She already knew something. I could see it in the way her fingers tightened around the arms of her chair, in the way she didn’t look as surprised as she should have.
“There’s something you aren’t telling us,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.
Her eyes met mine.
I didn’t flinch.
After a long pause, she sighed. “Not here. Not now.”
I bristled. “Then when?”
“When I have answers, Miss Granger.”
The finality in her tone made it clear she wasn’t going to tell us anything more—not yet.
I gritted my teeth, frustration curling beneath my skin.
Too many questions.
Not enough answers.
McGonagall studied all of us once more before finally saying, “You’ve all done enough for tonight. Rest. Recover. We will speak again soon.”
It wasn’t dismissal.
It was a warning.
We rose, none of us speaking as we turned toward the door.
But as we left, just before the door shut behind us, I swore I heard her whisper something under her breath.
A single phrase.
A name.
Salazar’s Shadow.
A chill ran through me.
I didn’t know what it meant.
But I knew one thing for certain.
This wasn’t over.