Signs Around the Castle
Professor Binns's History classes were, as always, dull and monotonous, causing many students to simply fall asleep, while others simply used the lesson as an excuse to chat.
The ghost didn't seem to care what anyone did as long as he could keep droning on about the unbearably boring International Warlocks' Convention of 1289.
Harry and Percy were a little frustrated because they hadn't been able to get in touch with Aunt Mor, who lately seemed to be much busier with her cleaning job.
If there had been a nearby fireplace, they could've gone to Avalon and left a message with Dred so she could come find them. But at Hogwarts, aside from the fireplace in the Headmaster's office, which always seemed to be connected to the Floo Network, the rest of the castle's fireplaces weren't connected for security reasons.
"Maybe your godfather has a point. What kind of criminal goes around announcing they're about to start committing crimes?" Hermione said, using the same logic Sirius had. "Besides, we don't even know if the Chamber actually exists."
The truth was, the more they thought about it, the more sense it made.
"Besides," Ron chimed in, "after the beating you gave Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team, this really smells like revenge. You saw the look on his face when he read the message. He's just trying to provoke you again."
"What about that voice?" Harry asked. That was still what had been bothering him the most.
Ron didn't have an answer for that.
"Still, Harry, it's obvious that all that 'pure-bloods only' nonsense comes from Slytherin, and everyone in his House believes in it like it's gospel. If the Sorting Hat had put me in Slytherin, I'd have gotten right back on the train and gone home."
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she nodded, as though it were the first time she'd ever agreed with Ron's way of thinking.
Harry remained silent, remembering the Sorting Hat's words.
He had been given the chance to choose his House, and Slytherin had been one of those choices.
The Hat had even told him that each House would lead him toward a different destiny.
He couldn't help wondering what kind of future would've awaited him if he'd chosen Slytherin.
For just a moment, he even wondered if, had he made that choice, the words written on that wall would still have felt so foreign to him.
The thought alone sent a strange chill down his spine.
"Heir of Slytherin..." Harry murmured as he looked toward Professor Binns, who continued teaching without seeming to care that no one was actually paying attention.
...
After class, the group walked through the corridors along with the wave of students leaving their classrooms.
As they made their way through the halls, they couldn't help passing by the place where everything had happened.
Filch was desperately trying to scrub the writing off the wall, rubbing at it with all his strength, but the red letters refused to come off, as though they had been painted with something impossible to erase.
When he looked up, his eyes met Harry's.
His eyes stayed fixed on Harry as he walked past, as though that look alone was telling him he'd be watching him from now on.
Harry didn't have the time—or the patience—to pay attention to the castle's bitter caretaker, so he simply kept walking.
But after only a few more steps, something caught his eye.
Hundreds of spiders were marching in a line along a gleaming strand of silk toward one of the nearby windows, as though they were fleeing in desperate haste.
As though spiders all over the castle were doing the same thing, Harry couldn't help paying attention to them and walking closer.
"Have you ever seen spiders do this before?" Hermione asked, bewildered.
"No," Percy said, watching them closely for a moment, while Harry shook his head as well.
"What about you, Ron?" Harry asked as he turned around.
That's when they noticed Ron standing a few steps away, completely pale as he stared at the spiders, looking like he was about to bolt.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked when he saw him like that.
"I hate spiders," Ron said, swallowing hard in disgust as he watched them scurry along.
Hermione couldn't help letting out a small smile at the sight of him panicking so badly.
"Don't worry, Ron. I know an entire cabin full of boys and girls who hate spiders and are even more terrified of them than you are," Harry added, trying to make his friend feel better.
"Yeah, and I hope that, unlike them, you'll remember to get in touch with us so we know you're okay," Percy said after watching the spiders for a moment, his tone carrying a trace of resentment. Then he let out a huff, turned around, and started walking away.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, giving his sulking brother an amused smile, knowing perfectly well why he was acting that way.
"To find Tyson. We still have other places to investigate," Percy replied, still sounding slightly annoyed without turning around.
"What's gotten into him?" Hermione asked as she watched Percy storm off.
"Annabeth never replied to the letter he sent with Hedwig. He even spent ages trying to convince her to fly all the way to America. Don't worry, he'll be fine. He's just worried about her," Harry said calmly as he watched his brother's retreating back.
Meanwhile, Ron seemed lost in his own memories as he explained how, when he was little, Fred had turned his teddy bear into a huge, ugly spider.
Hermione and Harry, who hadn't really been paying much attention to the story, snapped him out of it and hurried him toward the Great Hall.
After all, lingering around the scene of the crime probably wasn't the smartest idea.
None of them noticed that, several yards away, a boy stood perfectly still amid the constant flow of students.
His gray eyes followed Harry's every movement while the other students streamed past him, forcing him to take the occasional small step to the side.
Even so, he never looked away.
One of his hands rested inside his robe pocket, gripping tightly onto a small object hidden within.
His expression remained calm, but behind those eyes it was obvious he was putting together pieces he'd previously dismissed.
"If he really is the Heir... then maybe..."
"Cedric, come on or we'll miss dinner," a nearby student called, urging his fellow Hufflepuff along.
"Right," Cedric replied with his usual friendly smile before heading toward the Great Hall, though not before casting one last glance toward the direction Harry had disappeared with his friends.