Chapter 43
The castle was unnaturally quiet as Harry walked through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone. Dinner had ended, and most students had already retreated to their common rooms. The hallways should have felt peaceful.
But they didn’t.
A whisper.
Harry froze.
It was faint, almost indistinct, like a breath against his ear.
"Rip… tear… kill…"
His heart pounded. He turned sharply, eyes scanning the corridor. No one was there.
The whispering slithered through the air again, curling around him like smoke.
"So hungry… so long… soon… kill…"
A chill crawled up Harry’s spine. He swallowed, gripping his wand tighter.
The voice sounded close—right next to him—yet impossibly distant, as though it came from the walls themselves. He started moving, quickening his pace, trying to follow the sound.
It led him through the castle, down corridors unfamiliar to him. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, but he pressed on. He had to find out where it was coming from.
The whispering grew more urgent.
"Kill… time to kill…"
Harry rounded a corner—
And skidded to a halt.
A puddle of water stretched across the floor, reflecting the flickering torchlight. And hanging from a bracket on the wall—frozen, stiff—was Mrs. Norris.
The cat's wide, glassy eyes stared into nothingness. Her tail hung limply, her fur bristled. She looked as though she had been struck motionless in sheer terror.
And then—he noticed the wall.
Dripping in something dark, something thick, something that glistened under the light—
A message.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
A door slammed somewhere behind him.
Students spilled into the corridor, loud and laughing—until they saw.
A scream pierced the air.
“What’s happened?”
“Oh my—”
“Mrs. Norris!”
The hallway filled with gasps and murmurs as people crowded around, whispering frantically.
Then—
"Enemies of the Heir, beware?" Malfoy’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and triumphant. He grinned, eyes gleaming as he looked around the crowd.
"You’ll be next, Mudbloods," he said softly.
Silence fell. The air thickened with tension.
And then—
"WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?!"
The booming voice of Argus Filch shattered the moment. The caretaker barged through the students, his eyes landing on Mrs. Norris—
And then on Harry.
“You!” Filch’s voice cracked. “You did this!”
“I didn’t—” Harry started, but it was too late.
Filch lunged for him.
And just like that, the night turned from eerie whispers to chaos.