Harry's second year was beginning nicely.

The studies he had done during the holidays were helping him claiming the top spot in almost every subject, the few others being dominated by Hermione. Ron was a little disappointed to see Harry's success, especially since he was basically abandoning him every evening to raid the library with the witch. Harry, for his part, was a little sad too. He had gained a friend in Luna, and was slowly growing closer to Hermione, but drifting away from Ron in the process. He didn't particularly wanted to distance himself from his first true friend, but the knowledge of having to bring Voldemort to justice was forcing him to get better. For the same reason, he was keeping up with his excursions in Shadows, which had been approved by the Headmaster. The old wizard knew that in his new position, Harry – and the Devourer – had no choice but to fight.

Studies and hunts aside, he had thrown the castle's ghosts in an uproar by his mere presence, gained unwanted attention from Lockart – which he was positive was a freaking fraud – and received countless praises from a little first year who claimed to be his biggest fan – but which was refereed to as "minion" by the Devourer.

As of today, it had been just as perfect. Malfoy Junior had been as big a git as he remembered, and Oliver Wood just as much a Quidditch slaver. Those last two points he had witnessed first hand, when he had been awoken by an overjoyed Oliver which had dragged him to the pitch. The Slytherin team had then invaded the field and the blond had immediately boasted about the new brooms – gift of daddy dearest – and his new seeker position. Being slightly sleep-deprived, Harry had silently contemplated punching Draco in the throat. Then the fool had to insult Hermione, and Harry had done so. Feeling the blond git's larynx caving in had put a smirk worthy of the Devourer on his face. The demon had even laughed in appreciation.

Said demon was now undergoing his late night patrol around the school to bust open the new Dimensional Rifts opening sporadically. He was actively dismembering a Crawler when a hissing sound reached him.

[Shaaasanea… Senaeth…]

It had sounded like a language of sort. Strange, since there weren't any other Devourers around – to his knowledge – and no other demons were capable of intelligible speech. But if The Nightmare – Harry snickered at Luna Lovegood's nickname – could enter Shadow, it was normal to assume that others could too.

The boy was now asking him to figure out where the sound had been coming from. Taking the kind request to heart – if he had any –, the Devourer followed the voice. He ended in front of a wall section which the Shadow's lights were clearly identifying as a secret entrance.

With no way to open it from Shadow and no desire from Harry to be found here in the middle of the night, the Devourer returned to the Gryffindor common room. He gave up control to his Puppet, which promptly went through his trunk to grab the castle map he had took to draw a few days prior. The new secret passage was added and circled in red, before being joined by a question mark and a silent vow from the Devourer to discover what was hiding there.

The day had been eventful, but with Malfoy in the infirmary and this unknown soul running around, this year was getting better by the day. Harry went to bed and fell asleep immediately.

- DWW -

The late Quidditch training had just ended and Harry was returning to his room, munching on his thoughts all the way.

Halloween was growing closer and given the experience he had last year on that exact same date, the young wizard was dreading it.

With an unknown entity roaming the Shadow, he had wanted to take his researches up a notch in the hope that he would find it before it found them. But so far, he had nothing. The hisses hadn't been heard again, and neither the Devourer nor Harry had discovered any way to open that damn passageway. Worst, he had located several other entrances spread across the castle, probably linked and just as hermetic as this one.

Harry wasn't the only preoccupied person around. Well, he was a Puppet so 'person' wasn't exactly appropriate. Thinking about it, neither was it for this other pers… you know what, nevermind.

Nearly Headless Nick, the official Gryffindor ghost which had been pretty absent lately – how come? – was muttering under his breath in front of a window.

"Hello, Nick."

The ghost jumped, though Harry didn't know if he had been startled or had just recognized his voice.

"He… Hello M. Po… Potter." said Nick, facing the young wizard.

Since when was Nick a stuttering ghost?

"You're not making a Professor Quirell on me, are you?"

A hurried "No, of course not." left Harry smirking. It sent a shiver down the ghost's spine, which was weird since it wasn't supposed to be possible. According to his face, he had been so preoccupied that he hadn't detected Harry and run to the other side of the castle, like every other ghosts around here had taken a liking to do. Running away from him was almost a national sport at this stage.

"You look troubled."

"Ah… it's… a matter of no importance. You don't have to bother yourself with me."

Those last words were whispered. Was the ghost really that afraid of him?

Harry sighed. He had to admit that he had found it funny at first, but seeing such tension in one's eyes was enough to make him backstep. He had to do something.

"Nick, you know what I am, right?"

A meek "Yes." escaped the ghost's lips.

"Good. Now, I can understand that you fear for your life, but I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. I know that the Devourer's supposed to be dominant, but it's not the case here."

Nick lifted his head a little. Had he heard properly?

"Headmaster Dumbledore provided a mean for me to stay in control at all time. You don't have to fear the Devourer, because I won't let him hurt you. Do you understand?"

"Is… is it true?"

"Unfortunately, that is correct."

The Devourer voice threw Nick for a loop as he began to float around the hall, screaming. He hadn't even registered that the demon had just validate Harry's statement. It took the boy several minutes to calm the ghost, and several more to advise him to seek the headmaster, which would be able to clarify his situation.

"Well, be sure that I will. I'm starting to miss my tower, and running away from you was cutting down my free time drastically."

"I can imagine. By the way, what was that thing troubling you earlier?"

"Oh, really nothing."

Harry threw him a pointed look. The ghost had the decency to look ashamed.

"It's just… the Headless Hunt refused my candidature." said Nick, angrily fanning himself with a letter. "For a mere sinew and a miserable half an inch of skin."

"But your skin's made of ectoplasm, right?"

"Indeed, why?"

"Don't you think I could just … cut it properly for you?"

Nick froze on the spot, face even more ghastly than usual.

"But, that would be…"

The idea of having his neck cut once more, by a demonic blade to boot, wasn't to his taste.

Harry hurried to apologize.

"Nick, I… I just wanted to help. You don't have to accept or anything."

The ghost retrieved his usual colors and smiled at him.

"No, it's perfectly fine. I appreciate the feeling, Mister Potter, but I'm not that desperate to join the Hunt."

Harry smiled back.

And then…

"Meow."

Oh god, why?

- DWW -

Mrs Norris just had to patrol this exact same corridor and with Filch catching him almost immediately, Harry wasn't even able to escape in Shadow.

In the end, he had barely avoided the terrible punishment bestowed upon those who dragged mud in the castle thanks to Nick's – and apparently, Peeves' – intervention.

Those events had also allowed him to learn something more about the irascible janitor – The guy was a Squib. It was forcing respect when one knew the amount of work he had in the castle. – and locate a new vanishing cabinet. Sure, the thing was in pieces and no sane wizard would willingly try, or even consider using it given the inherent danger of flawed enchantment-fields. The Devourer had just shrugged, assuring that he was just as capable of using it as he was of properly beheading Nick with his eyes closed. Harry trusted him on that.

Harry had also been invited to ~

"A deathday party?" chirped happily Hermione.

"Yep."

"I don't think many persons can say they've seen one. It'll be fascinating."

"Why would anyone want to celebrate their death?" asked Ron.

Harry swallowed his sadness. "To remember that we used to be alive." was on the tip of his tongue.

- DWW -

Nick's deathday had been better than expected.

The best moment had been when Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, leader of the Headless Hunt, had come to crash the party. The ghost had begun to boast and taunt Sir Nicholas, and then his eyes had fell on Harry. Having apparently been left in the dark on the whole 'Potter has tamed the Devourer' thing, the whole Hunt had run straight through the wall, leaving Sir Patrick's mount behind.

Nearly Headless or not, Sir Nicholas would mount the undead stallion for the night and consoled himself with the look of pure fright he had witnessed on Sir Patrick's face. For that, he had thanked Harry before discreetly promising to the boy that he, too, would be there for his own deathday. Harry had wanted to cry, but decided that a weak smile was more appropriate.

It was on that heartbreaking note that the three living friend – more like two and a half – had left the party.

After the banquet of rotting food, Harry and Hermione weren't in such a hurry to eat. Ron, for his part, was determined to grab a little something from the proper Halloween celebration before going to bed.

That's when things had started to get weird.

[Rip… tear them apart...]

Of course, Halloween night. He hadn't made enough progress on his side, so the thing had decided to come and say hi.

[Hungry… I'll kill them… I'll eat them…]

What really bothered Harry was that he was undoubtedly hearing hisses, and yet could understand every single word of it. He had believed the thing to be a creature from the Shadow, but this sudden comprehensibility proved that it wasn't the case. What could be that thing?

Hermione had the kindness of taking him out of his reveries by catching his shoulder, shaking it as she would have whipped-cream, yelling all the while to see if he was okay.

He had just as kindly asked her to "Shut up.", before following the ominous and apparently murder-prone voice to the upper floor. There, they had come face to face with a motionless Mrs. Norris and a good old-fashioned threat-letter wrote with several gallons of blood, just before being busted by the entirety of the school, students and staff alike.

"Well, F# %!"

"Language, Harry."

"Seriously, Hermione? That's what you're concerned about?"

- DWW -

Harry Potter was tired.

Explaining to the Headmaster, Snape and M. Shampoo that he just had the Worst. Luck. Ever. had taken forever. He had then suffered a second questioning about his weird behavior from Ron and Hermione, followed by a scolding from the witch. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to follow weird deadly voices around. Swearing wasn't authorized either, especially not toward a girl.

But the hard part was coming now, as upon leaving Lockhart's office, Dumbledore had sent him a meaningful look. It basically meant that he had to discreetly go to the headmaster's office in the middle of the night in order to explain what really happened in that corridor.

Wishing that he could have stayed in bed, the young wizard got up as silently as possible. As he had stay dressed to avoid the difficult task of putting on a trouser in the dark, he slyly went back to the common room entrance and watched it open in a swift motion. The boy's presence vanished and the Devourer replaced him.

Five minutes later, the demon had reached the gargoyle guarding the now well-known staircase. Thankfully, magic had enough impact in Shadow for him to open this access.

"Lemon Drop."

The statue moved, the demon trying his best to look as dignified as ever. If the Daughter of Fire had heard him say those words, she would have laughed at him for the next century.

As agreed, he didn't stopped at the office, instead going straight to the man's personal study. There, the boy would return and use a small silver bell, enchanted to be heard only by the Headmaster. It had the benefit of alerting the man that he wasn't alone anymore, and was a rather nice invitation to ditch whoever or whatever he was using his time for at the moment.

Harry appeared in the small room, surrounded on all side by piles of books and weird devices. He took the bell and gave it a few swings, before sinking down in a nearby chair. He had just felt his head touch the padding when the door opened and a worried old wizard entered.

"Harry, my boy, we need to talk."

The young boy sighed and yawned at the same time.

He should have stayed in his bed.

- DWW -

"So you heard that hissing both in and out of Shadow, but only understand them as yourself? That is quite peculiar."

Harry gave a weak nod. It probably was, but he was way too sleepy to care.

"And you said it was in the walls?"

"Sure sounded like it."

The headmaster seemed to ponder something for a few seconds.

"Those secret passageways you mentioned, I'd like you to guide me to them."

"I'll give you the plan."

"That will help, but I have to insist. Your presence is essential."

"Fine. Do you think that we can open them?"

The wizard smiled.

"Well, I may have an idea or two."

Harry suddenly had the unpleasant sensation that the headmaster was withholding information again.

"But we shall see about that later. It is getting late and we both need some sleep." said the man, rising from his seat.

He opened the door and smiled warmly.

"Thank you for you time, Harry. Have a good night."

It sounded awfully like a bad excuse mixed with a harsh dismissal. Harry wasn't in the mood to rack his brain on the matter and decided to let it go. He nodded and let the Devourer take over.

- DWW -

Days passed and the school got more suffocating with each passing second.

The students' chitchats were fully focused on that rumored Chamber of Secret and everything pointed to Harry Potter being that just as rumored Heir of Slytherin. Well, he wasn't a Slytherin but he had been found on the scene of the crime with his two accomplices and had grown somewhat distant this year. It had to be him, right?

Harry, for his part, was still tired and more than a little annoyed. The others kids were giving him stares all day long, along with a few professors and the caretaker. The history lesson turning into a thriller story hadn't helped in this matter, since it had spread the tale of the Chamber school-wide, which had resulted in them believing him capable of using dark magic and controlling a deadly monster at will. The stares' intensity had doubled and Harry had begun to feel extremely weary.

Concerning the 'annoyed' part, it was partly due to the headmaster's apparent inactivity in the matter. He had came by a few days ago to retrieve the map, making no comments on those ideas of his. Harry had no clue on what was roaming the school, nor how to access its lair, and that damn headmaster was only offering dead air since then.

Speaking of offering, Hermione had that crazy idea that using Polyjuice to masquerade as Slytherins would help them get statements from Malfoy that he was the heir. It would require several ingredients thefts from the Potion classroom, along with the use of proper genetic materials which would be a bother to gather. Assuming that they succeeded in brewing it, they would then be stuck as Slytherins for several hours, wearing forms with no proper personality or memories to make it credible, nor even the password for the snakes' common room.

Harry had agreed to help, just not in the way Hermione had hoped for. Instead, he had just explained rationally how stupid that plan was, why they couldn't rely on luck so much, and why Malfoy was just too stupid to be this heir of Slytherin. His arguments had surprisingly worked and the Polyjuice option had been swept under the metaphoric rag.

Then had come the Quidditch match, which had been a flawless victory. No wonder, after Oliver had the Gryffindor team train in anything but appropriate weather conditions. The heavy rain was nothing more than a drizzle for them.

That night, the Gryffindor partied. Hard.

That is, until McGonagall entered the common room and announced the news. Colin Creevey, Harry Potter's biggest fan and resident photograph, had sneaked out during the festivities. He had later been found in a staircase, petrified.

The Devourer had merely said "We will find other minions."

Strangely, that comment hadn't eased Harry one bit.