All Hallows Eve came much faster than the year prior they all felt. The group left the sanctuary together in a hurry, intending to make their way to the Great Hall where dinner was just beginning. The corridors were alive with the warm glow of floating lanterns and the low murmur of students eager for their evening meal. Harry, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Daphne, and Neville strode side by side, talking quietly about the day's lessons and the faint possibility of upcoming Quidditch matches.

A sudden stillness came over Harry. He halted mid-step, eyes narrowing. A soft, hissed voice—familiar only to him—threaded through the ambient noise. Instantly, his pulse quickened. He recognized Parseltongue, though the words slipped away before he could fully grasp them.

"What is it?" Draco asked, noticing Harry's abrupt pause. Around them, other students filed past, oblivious to any unusual sound.

Harry swallowed, mind racing. "I heard something… like hissing," he said in a low tone. "Parseltongue. I'm not sure what it said—only that it sounded… urgent." He looked down a side corridor, feeling drawn to it.

Exchanging wary looks, the group diverted from the main path toward the Great Hall, letting the stream of students continue on without them. The corridor they chose was less traveled at dinnertime, the lantern light here quieter, cooler. Each step felt heavier, Harry straining his ears to catch more of that phantom voice. Then the corridor opened into a small landing, where a single lantern flickered overhead.

Theo was the first to spot it: Miss Norris, Filch's cat, hanging petrified from the lantern. The sight froze them in horror. Her fur stood on end in an unnatural stiffness, and her limbs were rigidly locked. Beneath her, scrawled in dripping letters along the wall, stood a message that glinted wetly in the lantern's light:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

A stunned silence fell. Neville paled, while Pansy pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes widening at the grisly tableau. Draco slid his wand from his robe pocket, mind and face both set in grim lines. The cat's unmoving form cast a stark, sinister shape in the shifting glow.

Harry felt a chill coil inside him, the final strands of that strange hissing echoing in his mind. Whatever the words had been, they had led him—and the group—straight to this horrifying scene.

Blaise swallowed, voice hushed. "What in Merlin's name…? Who would do this?"

Daphne raised her wand to illuminate the lettering more clearly. The bright reflection off the wet letters revealed red smears trailing down the stone. She stifled a shudder. "The Chamber of Secrets… I've heard rumors, but why now?"

Before they could speak further, an uproarious shriek blasted through the corridor:

"Waaaah—CAT'S A DUMMY! FOULNESS IN THE HALLS!"

Peeves the poltergeist swooped in from around the corner, cackling with breathless excitement. He hovered near the twisted figure of Miss Norris, eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "Foulness, I say! Hanging cats—bloody walls—eeeeek!"

His cries ripped through any stunned silence. The corridor erupted in eerie echoes of Peeves's screeching, the poltergeist spinning overhead, arms flailing like a hysterical bird. "Filch's kitty, oh dear me! Gone stiff! Gone done for!" he howled, turning cartwheels midair in what seemed a ghoulish delight.

Harry and Draco stood rooted at the cat's dreadful pose, hardly believing their eyes. The ominous warning scrawled on the wall threatened to overshadow all sense of safety at Hogwarts. Theo and Blaise glanced at each other, hearts pounding, while Pansy and Neville exchanged uneasy looks. Peeves's wild shrieks would soon draw others—staff or students—to this place.

A shrill shout from Peeves echoed off the stone walls, abruptly replaced by the thunder of hurried footsteps. Before Harry or any of his friends could speak, a sweeping group of professors appeared at the far end of the corridor. Dumbledore led the way with stern urgency, robes billowing as he advanced, while McGonagall, Snape, Lockhart, and a frantic Filch followed close behind.

Filch's eyes locked instantly on the grim display. A rattling gasp escaped his throat as he rushed forward, trembling with horror. He turned on the students, voice shaking, though it was barely coherent. "What—why—my cat—" His fury tangled with shock, leaving him half-choking on words he couldn't form.

Dumbledore, face set in grave lines, stepped between Filch and the cluster of Harry's circle. His calm authority stilled the poltergeist's shrieking overhead. "All of you, stand back," the headmaster said softly, but with a finality that brooked no argument. He surveyed the corridor, jaw tight at what he saw.

McGonagall directed her wand upward, casting a broad protective shimmer over the immediate area. The glow bathed the scene in flickering light, accentuating the stricken looks of those assembled. Snape's gaze roamed from the shocked expressions on the students to the dreadful discovery itself, his usual stern demeanor tinged with something darker, more uneasy. Lockhart hovered nearby, fidgeting with his bright robes and glancing around as though seeking a photographer to document his presence.

Filch, breathing raggedly, swung his accusatory glare from one student to another. "You—did this—! You all…!" His knuckles whitened around the handle of a small lantern he'd been carrying. But his accusation faltered when his gaze collided with Dumbledore's firm, steady presence.

Dumbledore held up a hand, halting the caretaker's outburst. "We must first move from this corridor. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall—help me ensure no other student wanders by." His voice carried quiet authority that soothed the bristling tension, though Filch's distress still crackled in the background.

McGonagall nodded, glancing sympathetically at the students. She looked fit to demand an explanation, but refrained for the moment, possibly sensing their own shock. Snape, meanwhile, crossed the few steps that separated him from Harry and Draco, giving them a searching look. They offered no immediate defense—only stunned faces that mirrored everyone else's disbelief.

Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, stepping forward as though to address the situation. "Ah—yes, quite the spectacle. Rest assured, Headmaster, I'm more than capable—" But a piercing glare from McGonagall cut him off before he could spin a self-promoting tale.

Dumbledore motioned to Filch, who hovered protectively near the site, muttering low pleas for the cat's safety. In a gentler tone, the headmaster urged him to step away so they might move the petrified form. For a breathless second, Filch stood frozen in anguish, then he relented, clutching his lantern so tightly his fingers shook.

Peeves, floating overhead, continued to mutter nonsense under his breath, clearly disappointed that his uproar no longer dominated the corridor. He, too, edged back as the headmaster took charge.

Finally, McGonagall turned to Harry and the others, her voice solemn but not yet accusatory. "You will come with us. We must address this—immediately."

With that, the group—professors, caretaker, poltergeist, and the shocked students—began to funnel away from the corridor, leaving behind a terrible silence. The lamplight flickered in the deserted space, a silent testament to the dreadful discovery that had shattered the evening's routine and upended the once-lively spirit of Halloween.

They stood in a semicircle beneath the warm lamplight of Dumbledore's office, the hush of late evening pressing in on them. Harry was keenly aware of the many eyes upon him—McGonagall's stern concern, Snape's dark, penetrating stare, Filch's anger tinged with tremors of loss, and Lockhart's barely concealed need to interject. Dumbledore waited behind his desk, calm yet grave, as if balancing caution and compassion in equal measure.

"Start at the beginning," the headmaster said, his soft voice carrying more weight than if he had shouted. "How did you come upon this disturbing scene?"

Harry drew a slow breath, thinking carefully about what he could and could not say. On the far side of the office, his friends—Draco, Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Daphne, and Neville—kept quiet. They trusted Harry to speak without giving away their secrets, especially about snakes and secret spells.

"Well, sir," Harry began, evenly meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "We'd left our usual study spot and were heading toward dinner. Nothing seemed amiss until we… heard something." He chose his words delicately, leaving the nature of that "something" vague. "It was odd enough that I stopped and decided to lead the others down a side corridor."

McGonagall frowned slightly, glancing at the group. "What precisely did you hear, Mr. Potter?"

Harry held her gaze, carefully sidestepping the question's deeper implications. "Hard to say. It was a strange noise, more a feeling than anything. I couldn't identify it." He shrugged, letting the uncertainty feel genuine. "We followed it, thinking maybe someone was hurt or there might be a threat."

Snape inclined his head, seeming unconvinced. "And what led you to that particular corridor?"

Harry lifted his shoulders in a mild, disarming way. "It was half intuition. The sound or sense—call it a hunch—drew us there. I'm sorry I can't be more specific." His voice kept a steady confidence that invited no further prying.

Filch gripped the brim of his hat, eyes flicking with anger and grief. "And you found…my cat." The last words came out a shaky demand.

Harry nodded, voice gentling. "Yes, we saw Miss Norris. We also saw that message on the wall—'The Chamber of Secrets…'" He let the phrase hang, letting Dumbledore or any other professor pick up on its weight.

Dumbledore leaned forward, eyes kind but revealing a subtle urgency. "None of you have any notion how or why you ended up in precisely that corridor?" It was more of a probe than a question, an attempt to glean hidden details.

Harry kept his composure, refusing to betray the small swirl of recollections about a hiss no one else had heard. "We were just worried—someone could have needed help. By the time we arrived, Miss Norris was already petrified." He lowered his voice, genuinely reflecting the shock of that sight. "We didn't see who did it."

Lockhart cleared his throat, stepping in with a forced air of bravado. "Well! A horrifying spectacle, no doubt—though I dare say if I'd arrived in time, my extensive knowledge might have—"

McGonagall's stern look cut him off, and he subsided with a huff.

Snape turned a careful eye to Draco and the others, who stayed silent. "So no shadowy figures fleeing, no suspicious movements, simply a hunch drawing you to that location?"

Harry offered a subtle nod. "Precisely, sir." He knew better than to elaborate on the nature of that hunch—certainly not about the uncanny serpent-voice that might raise questions about Parseltongue. Best for them to assume it was a random compulsion or an odd sense of urgency.

Dumbledore stood, glancing around at each professor. "We will investigate this matter thoroughly. For now, I ask that you speak of this to no one, to minimize panic. And—" his eyes flicked to Filch, who still trembled with anger "—we must handle Miss Norris with all the skill at our disposal. Professor Lockhart," here he paused, as though reconsidering giving Lockhart any tasks, "and I shall examine the cat to confirm exactly what was done."

Harry gave a respectful bow of his head. "Yes, sir," he murmured, aware that Filch still radiated suspicion in the corner, but letting Dumbledore's protective presence shield them from direct accusation.

With that, the headmaster signaled the conversation's end. The students bowed out, returning to the corridor that led away from his office, the questions from the staff left behind them. As they descended the spiraling steps, Draco shot Harry a faint, questioning glance, but Harry merely shrugged, grateful that no professor had pinned down the real reason he had discovered the cat—and the serpentine voice that lured him there.

The intense silence of the castle hallway embraced them, each step echoing in uneasy harmony with their turbulent thoughts.

Midnight settled over the Slytherin common room some hours later, its emerald glow reflecting off serpent motifs in the dim lighting. Harry, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Daphne, and Neville sat around a low table, quietly recounting the day's events. They all knew something was brewing after discovering Mrs. Norris and that ominous message about the Chamber of Secrets.

Their subdued conversation broke off when the entrance to the common room swung open, revealing Severus Snape. His measured footsteps carried an undercurrent of urgency. He paused to survey the circle, then stated in a voice that accepted no delay:

"Potter, Malfoy—and the rest of you—my office, immediately."

Exchanging bracing looks, they obeyed, the late hour lending a heavier tension to each footfall. Snape led them through winding corridors that seemed even colder at night, until they reached the discreet door to his private office. He ushered them inside and closed it with a firm click. A single lamp upon his desk cast elongated shadows across shelves of potion ingredients and old tomes.

Snape didn't waste a second. "You left out vital details when speaking to Dumbledore," he said bluntly. "I want the truth of how you actually discovered that corridor—and the cat."

Harry stood at the forefront, steeling himself. Over the summer, trust had grown between them, though it still felt precarious. He took a breath and decided it was time to speak, truly and fully—no half-explanations about hearing "something suspicious."

"Sir… I heard a voice," Harry began, glancing at Draco before turning back to Snape. "Parseltongue. I can speak it, though I don't fully understand it yet. It was coming through the walls, and I followed it. That's why we ended up in that corridor."

Snape's expression remained impassive, but a flicker of interest crossed his eyes. "Parseltongue," he repeated, the word quiet in the hush of his office. "That would explain why only you led the group there, and not the rest." He allowed a measured pause. "You withheld this from Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded, shame creeping in. "Yes, sir. I… it's an ability people usually fear or misunderstand. Which is why I kept it from you until now, which with Feroximus for a snake was incredibly difficult to do for an entire year and the summer. Regardless I worried it might make me look guilty, especially with that 'Chamber of Secrets' message referencing serpents. But I trust you to know the truth now."

Snape's features remained carefully controlled, the lamp's glow carving shadows on his pale face. "It was wise not to blurt out your gift in front of others. Still, you must understand, concealment can also breed suspicion."

Draco, arms folded, spoke next, carefully supporting Harry's explanation. "We all followed him because we trust his instincts, but not all the staff would see it that way. So we gave Dumbledore a partial truth—some vague sense Harry had—yet we told you more now, sir, because we… know you have a right to it."

Snape let the quiet linger, glancing among them—Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Daphne, Neville—each looking taut but resolute. "Tell me everything else you gleaned. Did the voice speak any distinct words?"

Harry shook his head, remembering only the urgent hiss. "Not exactly. Just a sense of 'hunt' or 'kill'—like it was searching for something. By the time we got to that corridor, all we found was Mrs. Norris, petrified, and that message."

Snape weighed their words silently. The tension in the lamp-lit chamber rose. When at last he spoke, his voice held a measured gravity. "I appreciate your honesty. And you are correct: outside these walls, Parseltongue stirs fear. Keep it hidden unless absolutely necessary. If you hear the voice again—come straight to me."

Relief bloomed across the group. Harry nodded, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you, sir. We won't keep anything else from you."

Snape's gaze flicked over them one final time. "Nor should you. This 'Chamber of Secrets' business is more than a student prank. We must handle it with utmost care." He allowed a faint pause before concluding. "Return to your dorms now. Not a word of Parseltongue or this conversation to anyone else."

He moved aside to let them leave. One by one, they filed out, subdued but feeling a certain weight lifted. Harry, last to exit, exchanged a final glance with Snape—a silent affirmation that the fragile trust they'd built over the summer now stood all the stronger.

When the door closed and they found themselves in the dungeon corridor again, the hush of the late hour felt less oppressive. They walked back to the Slytherin common room shoulder to shoulder, hearts still gripped by worry over the Chamber, but comforted by Snape's guarded support.

They parted ways with Neville at the corridor that branched off toward the Hufflepuff dorms. A brief exchange of tired goodnights carried a shared weight of worry. Once Neville disappeared around a corner, Harry, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, Pansy and Theo continued silently toward the hidden entrance of Slytherin House. The hush of the castle felt heavier than usual, as though the very walls absorbed the unease hovering over the school.

Inside the common room, most students had drifted off or lay dozing by the embers in the fireplace. The four boys slipped past them quietly, stepping through to their dormitory. The girls went the opposite direction to theirs. The thick green drapes and faint serpent motifs offered no comfort this time—only a reminder that the day's events still pulsed beneath the surface.

They settled around a small table near their beds, perched on trunks or leaning against the frames, none quite ready to sleep. Draco broke the silence first, voice subdued. "Snape's reaction wasn't what I expected, but at least we're not in deeper trouble. He seems genuinely concerned about…whatever's behind this."

Blaise nodded, fiddling with a book on his trunk. "He didn't accuse us. That's a start. But we can't pretend nothing happened. Everyone's whispering about the Chamber being more than a silly myth."

Theo let out a soft breath. "And then there's the cat. Petrified. That's not a cheap trick. It's advanced magic—whoever did it knows what they're doing."

Harry spoke quietly, gaze flicking to the flicker of a lantern near the door. "Snape trusts us to keep our heads down, but you know people will talk. The message on the wall…someone's planning more than just scaring Filch. It's a threat."

A silence weighed on them for a moment, each recalling the swirling gossip that would soon overtake the castle. Draco looked thoughtful, drumming his fingers on his knee. "We should keep listening for signs of anything else. If we pick up even a rumor that leads to the culprit—"

Harry nodded. "Exactly. But we have to be discreet. If word spreads about how we found the scene—especially about what I heard—someone might twist it. The last thing we need is more suspicion on us."

A quiet agreement passed among them. Theo rose, retrieving a half-finished letter from his trunk. "Might as well stay vigilant in the halls between classes. Keep an ear out for chatter. Meanwhile, we still have classes—Lockhart's going to be unbearable."

Blaise smirked, setting aside the book he'd been holding. "No doubt he'll spin some wild story. Just don't let him pry into our side of things."

Draco shrugged off his tie, tossing it onto a trunk. "If he tries, we can mention we're following staff orders not to talk. That should shut him up. Besides, it might amuse us to watch him flounder."

Harry's lips curved in a brief, tired smile, the tension in his shoulders lessening a fraction. "Let's turn in. We'll do what Snape said, at least until we know more."

No one argued. The day's stress weighed too heavily, and the gloom of the dorm felt thicker than usual. They murmured last goodnights and retreated to their respective beds, each lost in unsettled thoughts about the twisted message, the petrified cat, and the uncertain days ahead. Though no illusions of safety remained, they took small comfort in their alliance—quiet vigilance, a watchful ear for rumors, and a pact to stand united against the secrets this night had brought to Hogwarts' door.