The Writing on The Wall.
Halloween night had come and gone without much fanfare for Harry. He had spent the evening in the library, immersed in a book on magical creatures. The celebrations in the Great Hall were of little interest to him. The noise and crowds were suffocating compared to the quiet peace of the woods.
But the next morning, as Harry walked toward Transfiguration, a commotion in the second-floor corridor caught his attention. Students were clustered near a set of stairs, murmuring in hushed, excited voices. Some looked frightened, others thrilled by the gossip.
Curious, Harry stopped at the edge of the crowd and craned his neck to see what had drawn such attention.
There, written in large, dripping letters across the stone wall, were the chilling words:
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."
arry tilted his head, studying the crude handwriting. The words gleamed wetly, as though the paint—or whatever substance it was—had just been applied.
Beneath the message, Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, hung stiff as a board, her lifeless eyes wide with terror.
Whispers buzzed around him:
“Who did it?”
“The Heir of Slytherin, they say!”
“What’s the Chamber of Secrets?”
Harry tuned out the voices. The writing didn’t unsettle him as it did the others. What stood out to him was the intent behind it. Someone had gone through the trouble of crafting a message meant to provoke fear, and fear it had certainly achieved.
“Potter!” Draco’s voice called, and Harry turned to see his housemate pushing through the crowd. Draco’s gray eyes gleamed with excitement. “Isn’t it brilliant?”
Harry blinked at him. “What is?”
“This!” Draco gestured at the wall. “The message. Don’t you see? It’s exactly the kind of thing that will put the Mudbloods in their place.”
Harry didn’t reply, his expression neutral. His detachment made Draco falter slightly, but the blond boy quickly regained his composure, smirking as if Harry’s silence was agreement enough.
Within minutes, the staff arrived. Professor McGonagall’s stern voice cut through the crowd as she ordered the students to disperse. Hagrid appeared soon after, his face stricken as he saw Mrs. Norris.
Harry lingered only briefly before moving on. The words on the wall meant little to him—another mystery among many.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet thought lingered. Whoever had stolen the diary had clearly found it worth using.
And Harry couldn’t help but wonder what Tom Riddle might have to say about all of this.