Harry pressed his palm to his scar, wincing as it throbbed bright and hot. Somewhere deep in Hogwarts, a distant clang echoed up through the stone floors. Ron, shivering in striped pyjamas, peeked out from behind a tapestry.
“Did you feel that?”
he whispered. The castle’s torches guttered, shadows flickering along the corridor outside Gryffindor Tower. Hermione, clutching a thick book to her chest, glanced nervously between them.
“That wasn’t the wind. Something just moved down by the forbidden corridor.”
Harry’s wand felt warm in his pocket. He slid out of the portrait hole, heart hammering. The paintings on the walls murmured warnings as he crept forward. The air stank faintly of smoke and cold stone. Behind him, Ron tiptoed, and Hermione’s footsteps were nearly silent. A distant crash sounded below, closer this time.
Harry’s pulse raced. Each step carried him further from the safety of the common room and closer to the secrets his scar refused to let him ignore.