Harry isn't sure what he expects to happen the next day. He's pretty sure that not much will change between Tom and him; they've been far too open with each other from the very beginning for much to change. Kissing will probably be more usual now, and causal displays of affection – but they were pretty common from before.

But while he doesn't know what he expects the next day to bring, it sure as fuck isn't Hermione being kidnapped.

He doesn't notice that she's missing before it's far, far too late. Both he and Neville take note of the fact that she's not eating with them during breakfast or lunch, but they don't think too much about it.

It's not before right after dinner that Harry realizes that something is wrong.

He's not truly worried, not in the beginning. Hermione does disappear sometimes, most often to the library, after all. So he strolls casually up into the 5th year Dormitories, fumbles for the Marauders Map, and attempts to find Hermione there.

When he fails to find her nametag on the spelled parchment, his heartbeat kicks up a notch.

With three hours left before curfew Harry sets off into the castle, Invisibility Cloak stuffed in his bag and Athie curled around his arm. Hermione never leaves the castle, not without telling anyone first. Where, oh, where can she be?

After an hour of worried pacing across the whole castle, the searching turns frantic. Hermione isn't to be found anywhere.

This is bad.

He calls Tom at one point, because thanks to his frayed nerves the bond is reacting – and not in a positive way. Tom talks calmly to him for a few minutes, but some Death Eaters break a window and manage to terrify a Wizard walking by, and so he has to excuse himself to solve the situation.

With precisely one and a half hour left before curfew, a note appears in the air before Harry's eyes.

He plucks it down and reads it.

By now you surely have noticed that your mudblood friend is gone, the note reads. She deserves to die. But I'll let you watch her, if you want! Just follow the clues, and you'll pop by eventually.

Below is a poem that Harry doesn't take the time to read.

Both anger and intense worry wells up in him, filling his ears with a loud ringing noise.

"Athie," he hisses, uncaring for who might see him, "a hatch-mate has been stolen. The preadator has disguised their magical signature, so I can't locate them. Can you smell them out?"

Athie, sensing his anger, his panic, and his fear, peeks out of his sleeve and tastes the air. "Yes," she replies, after a pause that's far too long for Harry's tastes, "but just their path. Not directly to the predator's den."

"Understood," Harry nods harshly. "I'll follow where you go."

Deep and dark; mother's mouth
lifelines reach for endless sky; where stars shine

Fires burn in south,
papers strung up on thin and frail trees
swinging in the gentle breeze.

Sticks and twigs whip at Harry's ankles in a cruel imitation of his Healer Robes. Above him, thick and sluggish branches cover up the sky, casting the forest in shadows and darkness. Only a few patches of dark forestry are bathed in moonlight – but where it shines, it pours over the landscape like molten silver.

Harry has no eyes for the beauty of the Forbidden Forest, however. Athie's slithering through the dead leaves covering the ground, her yellow color like a signal flare when surrounded by so much darkness.

She leads him to a clearing, but here she comes to a stop. Letting out a low hiss she curls up into a disgruntled ball. "Scent gone," she mutters, "gone."

Harry looks up from her, desperation clawing at his chest from the inside, wanting to be freed. If the scent is gone –

but wait! In the middle of the darkness is a beacon of light – a pale piece of parchment, strung up on a loose string and hung onto a seemingly random branch. It's eerily out of place, and Harry nearly stumbles over his feet in his haste to get to it. He tugs it down from the branch with greedy fingers, eyes skimming over the words –

"Athie!" he calls over his shoulder. "Athie, I found the next clue – can you use this?" He turns to his companion and thrusts the paper in her direction.

The snake grumbles something darkly but is soon by Harry's side. "I am no feline," she sniffs indignantly, "but I shall do my best." She bobs her head, which Harry has learned is the snake equivalent of tilting one's head. "Yes," she says, after a long pause, "I believe I can."

"Great," Harry breathes, "show the way!"

And so the journey begins anew.

Yet, halfway back to the castle grounds, Athie freezes. "Wait," she hisses, "Someone is coming." She bobs her head even as Harry tenses and draws his wand. "Smells familiar."

So Harry's met them after school began. That doesn't exactly help him much.

Drawing a deep breath, Harry takes three steps forward, rounds the corner –

and finds himself wand-to-wand with Theodore Nott.

"Theodore," Harry greets, not lowering his wand one moment, "what are you doing here?"

Theodore dips his head stiffly. He looks strained, eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a thin line. "I could say the same to you, Potter," he replies hesitantly.

"Hermione's been kidnapped," Harry explains. "I'm following clues."

Theodore lowers his wand, so Harry tucks away his, as well. "Thank Merlin," Theodore breathes. He stuffs his hand into his robes and pulls out a scrap of parchment. "You dropped the first clue, I think."

Harry cautiously takes the note. "You're looking for Hermione, too?" he asks. He reads the note; yes, still the same poem and hand-writing.

"Yes," Theodore says promptly, "and I'm joining you."

"Fine," Harry nods. Then he calls out, to Athie, "It's okay, Athie. He's a friend." Theodore startles at the hissed words, but seems to calm somewhat when Athie slithers out of the bushes.

"Hatch-mate?" she asks curiously.

Harry chuckles. "Not quite," he says, "but he's helping look for the one who's stolen."

Athie nods to herself and sets of to continue following the scent-trail.

Dust in corners; knowledge told
a heartbeat warming what is cold
A place forbidden; a painful truth
Enjoyable for lusting youth.

Theodore skims over the poem and tells Harry that "It's the library, obviously, but that's closed, so we have to sneak in."

Harry shrugs. Fine by him.

They keep a brisk pace when they cross back over the Grounds; the moon sends echoes of shivers down Harry's back, reflecting in gentle waves of the Great Lake. It's a cloudless night, and so the stars light up the landscape.

Through his worry Harry can't find it in him to fawn over the beauty.

When they're halfway across the grounds, Harry's mirror heats up, and he whips it out without breaking the pace. "Hello, Tom," he grits out, "pleasure to talk to you."

Through the sarcasm is a great relief – the bond was beginning to work itself into a panic attack again. "Harry," Tom says. He sounds worried. "Where are you?"

"Grounds," Harry replies, "say hi to Theodore Nott." He turns the mirror briefly. It's mostly to let Tom know that Harry's not alone, and partially to let him see Theodore's confused expression.

"Have you found Granger?" Tom asks without a second look at Theodore.

"No," Harry says, "but we're cracking the clues like crazy."

"Meaning that you have Athie smelling them out," Tom says drily.

Harry pouts.

"Potter," Theodore says cautiously, nodding to the entrance doors, "it's past curfew, we have to be quiet."

"Ah," Harry mutters, pout disappearing in favor for a pained grimace, "right. Bye, Tom."

When Harry puts down the mirror, Theodore opens the entrance doors, and they begin to march towards the library.

Er. Theodore begins to march towards the library. Harry's still following Athie. It just so happens that she's walking in the direction of the library.

Theodore is nearly trembling by Harry's side, and so Harry rolls his eyes with a sigh. "It was my boyfriend," he tells him – and through his worry and his panic, a warm fondness blooms within him. It's not a lie. "Thomas."

"Thomas?" Theodore repeats with a blink. "Thomas Malfoy, Draco's cousin?"

"That's him," Harry nods. "Oh hey, look, the library!"

Entering the library is far too easy, as is accessing the Restricted Section. Theodore searches the room very quickly – they're afraid to use magic around probably-cursed books – and finds the next note in no time.

Where elves find their homes, where honey drips;
a home is found between pots and pans:
scratching frozen pictures with fingertips,
and soon you'll be there, in with the cans.

"Kitchens," Theodore says.

Harry speeds up.

It's far past curfew, and although Harry's been through deserted Hogwarts Halls before, it's… it's different now. It's his friend's life at stake. The kidnapper had used the term mudblood and threatened Hermione's life – that is a threat that should not be taken lightly.

The Great Hall is too far away from the Library, and Theodore knows a short-cut. Athie agrees that it's the correct way, and so they zoom off towards the dungeons.

They stumble into Draco half-way through a dimly lit corridor. Harry wonders, for one brief moment, why he's not in bed – but when he sees the badge shining on his chest he nods stiffly to himself.

When Draco sees them, he halts. "What – " he begins.

Harry answers without slowing his pace. "Hermione's been kidnapped," he snaps coldly, hands balling into fists by his sides. "Follow me. That's an order."

Theodore raises an eyebrow at Harry, as if asking how the fuck is that supposed to help?

Draco, however, only inclines his head and mutters, "yes, my Lord," before falling into step behind Harry, flanking his right side. Theodore, still walking next to Harry on his left, gives him a wide-eyed look.

"Not now," Harry tells him hotly, and he nods mutely before continuing to walk.

After walking for another minute or so, Harry's skin begins to itch. He curses quietly and whips out the mirror once more. "Tom," he calls.

The answer comes faster than usual. Tom's been watching over the mirror, then. "Harry," he says, and his voice is even more worried than before.

"The bond is freaking out, sorry," Harry says, ignoring both Theodore and Draco. "Your cousin's joined us," he adds, to make sure that both Draco and Tom are aware that Theodore now knows.

Tom blinks. "Draco?" he says.

"Hi," Draco pipes up from behind Harry's shoulder.

"Watch over Harry for me, will you?" Tom asks, phrasing the concealed order like a meaningless comment.

"Sure thing, Thomas," Draco replies warily.

"You too, Nott," Tom adds, shooting a look to Harry's left. "Watch him. Merlin knows he can't do it himself."

Harry scoffs. "Hermione's at danger," he reminds him, "I'll watch over myself when I'm actually worried for my life."

Tom's gaze lingers on Harry for a moment before he looks away. "We don't know who she's been kidnapped by," he mutters.

Harry throws a look at Theodore. Is he worth the risk? Well… he can always be oblivious'd later, if he proves unable to keep a secret.

"Have you asked Bella and the others?" Harry asks.

"Yes," Tom replies, "none of them know of anything." Here his features turn stormy. "Of course, they might be lying… I could throw a few more curses their way, if you want."

Theodore's head snaps around and he stares at them with wide eyes – but, wisely, keeps his mouth shut. "No," Harry says, shaking his head, "that's not necessary. Do you think it might be a wannabe?"

"Perhaps," Tom muses. He frowns. "Draco," he snaps, "are any of the Slytherins out of the Dorms?"

"No," Draco says, "only Theodore, as far as I know."

Tom hums. "Keep in contact, Harry," he says, "I'll double check with…" He grimaces. "The others."

Harry nods stiffly. The mirror goes dark just in time, as well – Theodore points to the entrance to the kitchens with a dead expression.

Lonely souls gaze up and see,
seeds of light, dancing for thee
The future is made,
the past created,
up sixty-seven staircase steps.

"That's not a very good poem," Draco mutters as he reads the note. Theodore snorts. "I think it's the Astronomy Tower."

Harry shrugs. He doesn't give a damn about the cues. Athie can smell the bastard out, and he relies more on her than some words scribbled on a slip of parchment.

"Harry," Athie suddenly calls out, "stop."

Harry comes to an abrupt stop, startling both Draco and Theodore into yelping. "What?" Harry hisses, "what's wrong?"

"Human," Athie calls out, slithering back to Harry. "He smells."

"Filch," Harry whispers harshly to Draco and Theodore. "Hide. Now."

Draco disappears around the corner immediately, while Theodore hesitates for a moment before diving behind the nearest statue. The corridor is bathed in shadows; he should be able to be unseen there.

After checking that both Draco and Theodore have found relatively good hiding places, Harry flings the Invisibility Cloak around himself and pushes up against the wall.

He's not willing to use magic on Filch. As an adult, he was far more power in the school than any students – and where a student would probably brush of waking up in the middle of a corridor with little to no memory of how they got there, Filch would take it to Dumbledore immediately.

It's not a chance Harry wants to take.

It doesn't last long before Filch's heavy footsteps round the corner. He's carrying a lantern and squinting into the darkness, but he's not muttering to himself, and Mrs. Norris is not with him, so it must be a regular check.

Harry holds his breath as he passes.

Filch disappears around the opposite corner from Draco, and a few moment later, Theodore comes back into the corridor. Draco follows a second later, and first then does Harry tug of his cloak. "Alright, let's go," he whispers harshly. "Lead the way, Athie."

Harry curses their lucky stars when they round a corner and come face-to-face with a Ravenclaw prefect. "Hey!" she cries. "What are you doing out here?"

Theodore opens his mouth to begin and explain, but Harry races him there and draws his wand. "Stupefy," he intones calmly.

The girl drops to the floor.

Theodore turns gaping to him.

"Oblivio," Harry casts.

He continues walking without breaking his pace once, leaving Theodore and Draco to scramble after him.

Right before they reach the Astronomy Tower, a silvery shape plummets from the roof. It howls, perhaps in glee and perhaps in shock, at seeing the three students in the middle of the hallway.

"Itty bitty students!" Peeves shriek, and yep, it's definitely glee. "Why aren't you in your beds, hmm? Perhaps I should call a teacher!"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Peeves," he says, and when Peeves' gaze lands on Harry he loses some of his fight.

"Potty," he says, somewhat pouting.

"If you cause troubles for us I'll be cutting off your supply of dungbombs," Harry warns. "And if you can tell us if someone's coming our way, I'll double it for three weeks."

Peeve's eyes light up. "Sure can do, Potty," he cries, cackling gleefully as he dives down into the floor – and then he's gone.

"You've been busy since the year began," Theodore mutters.

"You have no idea," Draco says, sounding terribly pained.

Porcelain shines brightly above,
water comes rushing into this alcove,
a place for relief and where tears stain the floor;
a small room with more than one door.

Theodore tilts his head this way and that as he reads the note. "I don't get it," he finally admits. "Draco?"

Draco skims over the note before shaking his head. "No idea," he offers.

Harry takes the note and reads it.

Anger wells up in him. If this is the last clue, he's going to be utterly pissed. All this time, and Hermione's been there -

"It's the second-floor bathroom, you fools," he mutters. "Moaning Myrtle."

"How did you figure that out?" Theodore asks defensively.

"Porcelain, water, relief, small room with more than one door – all meaning bathroom. The tears staining the floor is a nod to Moaning Myrtle."

"Oh."

"Let's just pray it's just the bathroom," Harry grumbles darkly as he quickens his pace.

Peeves help them avoid another prefect and Umbridge the Bitch Herself, but he's too late to warn them about Severus.

Well, Severus is maybe their least problematic enemy this night.

When they stumble into each other Theodore winces, clearly believing the fight to be lost already. Draco looks hesitantly from Harry to Severus but doesn't say a single thing, thank Merlin. Severus, on the other hand, tenses when he sees Harry. Slowly, his gaze rakes over first him, then Draco, then Athie, and in the end, Theodore.

"Mr… Potter," he drawls, sounding more uncertain than Harry's ever heard him.

Harry interrupts before he can continue. He does not have the fucking time, Goddamnit –

"Hermione has been kidnapped," he says. "You will assist us, Severus, or so help me – !"

There's a pause. Severus grits his teeth, a war raging in his eyes – but then he nods tightly. "Very well, my Lord," he whispers. It's obvious that it pains him to say it, but he doesn't have much of a choice, and Harry, frankly, doesn't care.

When Severus falls into step behind Harry, as well, flanking his left side, Theodore turns wide, shocked eyes to Harry.

"Potter," he says softly, "am I… should I be walking next to you?"

"Don't worry," Harry replies, without looking at him. "You're not a minion. There's no expectations to you or your name."

Theodore frowns, but ends up nodding stiffly anyway.

Hm. Wise of him.

The rest of the trek to the bathroom is mostly uneventful. Draco updates Severus on the notes and the cues, Theodore keeps shooting Harry wary glances, and Harry very determinedly glares at the air in front of him.

Finally they arrive at the bathroom. Athie slithers a bit around, appearing confused, before returning to Harry. "Trail ends," she reports, "but abrupt. It continues, I am sure."

"Well, fuck it all, then," Harry deadpans. "Alright, everyone, listen up!"

Theodore was the only one not listening from before, and now he glances over at Harry again.

"We're going into the Chamber of Secrets," Harry informs them. "You will be risking your lives." He looks over at Theodore. "Theo, this is your chance at leaving. This is the point of no return."

Theodore frowns. "Draco – " he tries.

"Under an order," Harry cuts him off.

"Professor Sn – "

"Also under an order," Harry says. "Come on, Theodore, we don't have much time. Stay or no?"

"Stay, for Merlin's sake, Hermione's down there – "

"Good," Harry mutters. He pulls out the mirror again. "Tom." After less than two seconds the Mirror ripples alive. "Looks like we're going into the Chamber of Secrets, hon."

Tom frowns, likely at the nickname, but nods. "Good luck," he says. "And for Merlin's sake, Harry, be careful."

"Will do," Harry promises.

And with that he turns around, faces the sink, and hisses;

"Open."