Chapter 163 "The Writing on the Wall"

The wards Harry had carefully placed near the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets had been triggered. Eager to identify the intruder, he discreetly glanced at the Marauder's Map concealed beneath the table on his lap.

To Harry's shock and dismay, the magical parchment showed no one in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Harry's mind raced, grappling with the implications of this unexpected development. Two possibilities presented themselves: either the intruder had opened and entered the Chamber of Secrets with impossible speed, or more worryingly, the Horcrux was somehow concealing its holder from the map's magic.

Harry leaned towards the latter explanation. The process of opening the Chamber's entrance and descending into its depths would surely take more time than had elapsed since his wards were triggered.

This was not good news. If the Marauder's Map couldn't detect the Horcrux's holder, his most reliable tool for tracking the diary holder's movements was now rendered useless.

Pushing down his rising frustration, Harry scanned the rest of the map, checking for any students who might be in danger. To his immense relief, everyone seemed to be in safe locations. The majority of the student body was still gathered in the Great Hall, enjoying the Halloween feast. Even the "Golden Trio" – Charles, Ron, and Hermione – were safely occupied with the ghosts at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party.

As Harry's friends finished their meals in the kitchen, chattering excitedly about the everyday events of the school, he found his thoughts drifting to Mrs. Norris, the cat. In the books, Filch's cat had been the first victim of the Basilisk's attack. While Harry had never been fond of the suspicious feline, who had rebuffed his attempts at friendship and tattled to Filch, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at his lack of concern for her impending petrification.

A few minutes later, the group said their goodbyes to the house-elves and left the kitchens, planning to wait near the Great Hall for the rest of the students to finish the feast.

As they walked, Harry's enhanced senses picked up a chilling sound that could make anyone's blood run cold:

'... soo hungry ... for so long ...'

The hiss of the Basilisk echoed in Harry's ears, growing louder with each passing moment. Every instinct screamed at him to investigate, to follow the sound, and confront the danger head-on. But surrounded by his friends, he could think of no plausible excuse to suddenly dash off on his own without arousing suspicion. The internal struggle tore at him as they continued their leisurely pace through the castle.

As Harry and his group approached the Great Hall's doors, Harry still wrestling with his dilemma, a commotion sounded nearby. The Golden Trio burst into view, with Charles in the lead, his face a mask of concentration. It was immediately clear to Harry that his brother could hear the Basilisk's voice as well, confirming a suspicion he'd long held: Charles was also a Parselmouth.

This revelation carried significant implications. Since Charles hadn't received a piece of Voldemort's soul on that fateful night, it meant the ability to speak to snakes was inherent in their blood. And given that the Potters had no known history of Parseltongue, the talent must have come from Lily. The pieces of a long-standing puzzle began to fall into place in Harry's mind. Lily Potter, it seemed, was not the Muggle-born witch everyone believed her to be, but likely descended from a magical lineage with the rare gift of Parseltongue, maybe even Slytherin.

Before Harry could dwell further on this revelation, Charles sprinted up the stairs, with Ron and Hermione hot on his heels. Their sudden urgency was palpable, leaving Harry's friends confused and concerned.

Cedric turned to Harry, his brow furrowed in confusion. "They looked like they were in a hurry. Did something happen?"

Arabella's dark eyes clouded with worry. "I knew it. At Halloween, there is always trouble at Hogwarts. We should follow them – they might not be able to handle whatever danger they're rushing towards."

The group quickly agreed, and they set off in pursuit of the younger students. As they climbed the stairs, Harry heard the Basilisk's voice again, this time with a terrifying hunger:

'... I smell blood ... I SMELL BLOOD!'

Harry's heart raced, knowing the diary's possessor had set the Basilisk loose. He discreetly checked the Marauder's Map once more, relieved to see no names in the vicinity of the impending attack. At least no one was in any immediate danger today.

As they reached the second-floor corridor, they lost sight of Charles, Ron, and Hermione. The group paused, uncertain of which way to go.

"Which way now?" Roger asked, looking around uncertainly, his voice tinged with worry.

Harry, relying on his heightened senses, picked up the faint sounds of the trio's voices. "I hear something. This way," he said with quiet authority, leading the group forward. As they moved, Harry could also hear sounds from downstairs. It seemed the feast was over, and everyone was making their way to their house dormitories.

Suddenly, a loud scream of surprise pierced the air. Harry recognized it as Hermione's voice, filled with shock and fear. It seemed she had discovered the warning from the Heir of Slytherin. The scream was so loud that Harry knew it would soon attract the attention of professors and other students making their way up from the Great Hall.

Harry and his group rushed towards the source of the scream. As they rounded the corner into the second-floor corridor, they were met with a chilling scene that seemed straight out of a horror movie. The Golden Trio - Charles, Ron, and Hermione - stood frozen, their faces pale with shock as they stared at something on the wall.

Harry's group approached cautiously, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. As they drew closer, the full extent of the grisly tableau became apparent.

There, hanging from a torch bracket by her tail, was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat. Her body was stiff and unnatural, her eyes wide and glassy. It was clear that she wasn't dead, but rather in a state of petrification.

But it was what loomed behind the cat that truly sent shivers down their spines. On the wall, written in what appeared to be blood, were foot-high words that glimmered in the torchlight:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

The floor beneath the sinister message was wet, reflecting the flickering torches and giving the whole scene an otherworldly glow.

"We didn't do this," Ron blurted out, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and indignation. "It was like this when we got here. We just found it, I swear!"

Arabella stepped forward, her face ashen as she took in the horrifying scene. "We believe you," she said softly, trying to reassure the younger students. "You didn't have the time to do this. But... what does this mean? The Chamber of Secrets?"

Before anyone could respond, the sound of many footsteps filled the air, growing louder by the second. More people had reached this place, drawn by Hermione's earlier scream.

The chatter, bustle, and noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat and the blood-red message on the wall. Charles, Ron, and Hermione stood alone in the middle of the corridor, while Harry's group remained to the side.

Silence fell among the mass of students as they pressed forward, jostling for a better view of the grisly sight.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet, dripping with malice and barely concealed glee. "Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his cold grey eyes alive with a cruel light. His usually pale face was flushed with excitement as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat and the terrified faces around him.

Harry felt a surge of confusion and suspicion. How had Draco known something had happened here? He should have been walking towards the dungeons after the feast. This was the wrong direction entirely. Had Hermione's scream really been that loud, or did he know something? Maybe he got a warning from his father.

Before Harry could ponder this further, a familiar raspy voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "What's going on here? What's going on?" Argus Filch's angry tones rang out as he shouldered his way through the crowd, no doubt attracted by Malfoy's shout and the general commotion.

As soon as Filch's eyes fell on Mrs. Norris, he stumbled back, clutching his face in horror. The sight of his beloved cat, petrified and hanging from the wall, was too much for the caretaker to bear.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked, his voice filled with anguish and rage.

His bulging eyes darted around wildly before settling on Charles. "You!" he screeched, pointing a gnarled finger accusingly. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll –"

"Argus!" Dumbledore's calm yet authoritative voice cut through Filch's hysterics like a knife. The Headmaster had arrived on the scene, followed by several other teachers, their faces grave as they took in the scene before them. In seconds, Dumbledore had swept past Charles, Ron, and Hermione and gently detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket, cradling the stiff form of the cat in his arms.

"Come with me, Argus," Dumbledore said to Filch, his voice gentle but firm. "You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Harry was surprised that he and his friends weren't called to join them, but a part of him was relieved. He didn't relish the thought of a long, stressful interrogation eating into his already limited time.

Lockhart, ever the opportunist, stepped forward eagerly, his teeth flashing in what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. "My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free –"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore replied, a hint of weariness in his voice.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass, students pressing against the walls to make way for the somber procession. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore, followed closely by Professors McGonagall and Snape. Lily Potter also came rushing in, her face etched with concern as she moved to follow Charles, no doubt eager to comfort her son in the face of this frightening development.

As the group disappeared up the stairs, the remaining students began to whisper feverishly among themselves. Theories and accusations flew back and forth, each more outlandish than the last.

Harry's friends exchanged worried glances, the weight of what they'd witnessed settling heavily upon them. They hadn't been called to follow, but the gravity of the situation was not lost on any of them.

"I think... I think we should call it a night," Cedric said quietly, his usual cheerful demeanor subdued by the evening's events. "We can talk about this tomorrow when we've had some time to process it."

The others nodded in agreement, too shocked and confused to argue. As they made their way back to their respective common rooms, everyone was silent, still processing the disturbing scene they had just witnessed.

Harry knew this was just the beginning, but seeing that Mrs. Norris was only petrified gave him hope. If things continued to follow the books, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone dying. This realization was enough to calm his nerves.