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Chapter Five: There Will Be Blood

"Maybe it's just your imagination," Hermione offered.

"Yeah," Harry said half-heartedly. "Maybe."

He, unlike Ron, didn't think that a monster was going to jump out at them. Maybe the voice was in his head.

Plip. It was raining outside. Fat, loud raindrops. Plip plip plip.

Was this what going mad felt like?

Plip plip.

Rip, kill, blood.

"Hungry..."

Was it speaking to him?

Harry placed his palms against the wall and whispered: "Who are you?"

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

He turned; Ron and Hermione were both giving him strange looks.

"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. The voice did not answer him.

There had been something distinctly hissy and self-satisfied about the voice, Harry thought. And those attributes were familiar.

"But I need to speak to someone," said Harry.

"It can wait until lunch," said Hermione huffily. "You'll be late for Charms."

The thing is, I'm not quite sure if I care about being late for Charms.

Harry's Parseltongue can't stay a secret for long. Theodore Nott repays a favour, and T.M. Riddle has been speaking to someone else.

Hearing voices is never a good idea... even in the magical world.

Read from the beginning at AO3|FFN!