Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Inside Hogwarts, three figures huddled together under the Invisibility Cloak.

They moved carefully towards the dormitory.

The moonlight streamed through the high window, casting long shadows on them.

"Wait," Ron suddenly lowered his voice.

"If Voldemort already knew how to get past Fulvi, why didn't he make a move? What were they waiting for?"

Hermione paused. "Because Dumbledore is at school."

Her voice was soft, but unusually firm: "As long as the headmaster is here, Voldemort will not dare to make any rash moves."

Harry shook his head.

A slight stinging sensation came from the scar: "Wait... Dumbledore took me to the Ministry of Magic a few days ago to appeal for Sirius, and he left the school after that."

"But don't forget Professor Old,"

Harry continued, recalling Kane's warning to Draco, "Kane said that this professor of the history of magic is not much less capable than Dumbledore."

Ron swallowed nervously. "So...so they're waiting for both professors to be away?"

Amidst the discussion, the three quickly returned to the lounge.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed together in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

The fire in the stove had burned down to just a pile of dark red charcoal, with a few sparks occasionally flying out.

"Maybe we're overthinking it."

Ron yawned and stretched. "Dumbledore and Professor Ald are both at the school. How could Voldemort dare to make a move now?"

Hermione rubbed her sore eyes.

He rolled up the parchment filled with his reasoning: "Indeed... if there really was a professor working for Voldemort, he should know better than us that venturing into the forbidden zone with two top wizards in charge is tantamount to walking into a trap."

Harry stared at the fire; the stinging from his scar had subsided.

Only a faint, dull feeling remained.

He recalled Professor Old's exam during the day.

That professor always had complete confidence!

It would be truly unbelievable if Voldemort were stupid enough to act at such a time.

"And think about it," Hermione continued, her tone gradually relaxing.

"Even if Quirrell knows how to get past Fulve, Headmaster Dumbledore will definitely have other plans!"

"Besides," Hermione stood up, stretching her shoulders which were stiff from writing too much.

"If Voldemort was really plotting something, how could Dumbledore not have noticed? He's the one who can see through the Invisibility Cloak."

This sentence completely relaxed Harry.

Yes, Dumbledore could even spot him under the Invisibility Cloak, so how could he not notice Voldemort's abnormality?

"Okay," Harry stretched, "maybe we really did overreact a bit."

Ron had already slumped into the armchair.

With eyes half-closed, he said, "We have Potions class tomorrow. If Snape finds out we've stayed up all night and are still tired, he'll definitely deduct points again..."

Hermione nodded and stuffed the parchment into her bag. "We'll go to the library again tomorrow to check the information and see if we can find more conclusive evidence. Now, let's go to sleep."

The three of them dragged their tired feet up the stairs.

In the dormitory, Neville, with Harry's help, was already fast asleep, emitting soft snores.

In the Slytherin common room.

Draco Malfoy was jolted awake from a nightmare.

Cold sweat soaked through his silk pajamas. His chest heaved violently.

His fingers unconsciously clenched the silver locket on the bedside table—a birthday gift from his mother, now scalding hot.

"Little Dragon..."

Narcissa Malfoy's voice suddenly rang out in the darkness.

Yet it carried an eerie echo, as if it came from a very distant place.

Draco froze, his grey-blue eyes widening in the darkness.

The locket popped open automatically with a "click".

Where a family photo should have been placed, a dynamic scene appeared: in the study of Malfoy Manor, Lucius was forced to kneel on the ground by three hooded wizards, a wand pressed against his temple.

"Father!" Draco cried out, his fingers trembling as he touched the image.

The scene immediately changes, showing Narcissa chained to the fireplace, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"Fourth floor, restricted area..." His mother's voice echoed in his mind, "Only Malfoy's blood can open the passage... Save us..."

Draco abruptly threw off the covers, only to discover that a black line had appeared on his right wrist, like a small snake coiled around the vein.

As he tried to rub it with his left hand, the black snake suddenly wriggled and bit two tiny blood spots on his skin.

The excruciating pain was accompanied by new hallucinations flooding my mind:

Kane was dragged to the fourth-floor restricted area by a monster! The monster was then leaning down to approach him...

"No!" Draco sprang out of bed and rushed toward Kane's bed without even putting on his slippers.

However, when he lifted the curtain, the bed was empty except for a silver-green cufflink on the pillow—the mark of the eldest son of the Malfoy family.

"Kane?" Draco's voice trembled in the silent dormitory.

He grabbed his cufflinks, the cold metallic touch sending a chill down his spine.

"Your brother has already passed away..."

That cold voice echoed again within his skull, "He's waiting for you in the forbidden zone... but time is running out..."

Draco's legs started moving uncontrollably.

He grabbed his wand and stepped barefoot onto the cold stone ground. With each step, the black snake tattoo on his wrist tightened.

As he passed the fireplace in the common room, the firelight illuminated the tapestries on the wall.

On the student's job title and name list, Kane's name is slowly fading, as if it is being erased by some force.

"Hurry up..." the voice urged, "unless you want to watch your brother's name disappear forever..."

As Draco walked through the dimly lit corridor, his consciousness began to fade.

Barnabas in the portrait tried to speak to stop them, but was petrified by the light shot out by the black snake.

Moonlight streamed through the stained glass, casting blood-red patches of light on the ground and stretching his shadow long, twisting it into an unfamiliar shape.

Draco suddenly stopped at the corner of the stairs.

Reason briefly returned—if Kane really went to the fourth-floor restricted area, why didn't he leave any message?

Just then, the armor around the corner suddenly reflected a new image: Kane was kneeling in front of a hooded figure, kissing the hem of the other's robe.

Even more terrifying, Kane's gray eyes gleamed with the same black snake patterns as Draco's wrist.

"He accepted the call before you did..."

The voice whispered, "Now, are you going to disappoint him?"

Draco's stomach began to cramp.

This is impossible... but the black snake's venom has begun to erode his mind, twisting all doubts into conviction.

When he stumbled and fell to the fourth-floor corridor.

A complex magic circle had been drawn on the ground in front of the oak door with silver powder—the Malfoy family crest was at the center.