Torches flickered in their brackets as the crowd shuffled toward the marble staircase. The familiar buzz of end-of-feast chatter filled the air.

Then—a scream.

High. Piercing. It cut through the noise like a blade.

The crowd stilled.

Argus Filch's voice rang out from the corridor ahead, raw and trembling. Someone's killed her! Someone's killed my cat!

Students rushed forward, pushing past each other to see. The corridor was crowded now, bodies pressing in from all sides.

And there—hanging from a torch bracket—was Mrs Norris.

Stiff. Eyes wide. Tail rigid.

Below her, pooling in the torchlight, words scrawled in crimson: THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

The crowd gasped. Whispers erupted.

Then someone moved.

Through the throng of Slytherins, a head of platinum blonde turned sharply.