The Strange Whisper Heard Again (2)

"Ah! Harry!" Lockhart sprang to his feet the moment he saw Harry, spreading his arms in welcome. His brilliant smile was almost dazzling. "Come in! Come in! Professor Snape told me you were coming to help? Wonderful! Ever since I published those research papers, more and more readers have been contacting me. I happen to be in need of a capable assistant!"

Harry sat beside the small table piled with colorful fan letters. After what had happened in the office last time, he kept most of his attention on Professor Lockhart. His hands mechanically wrote identical words of praise across the parchment, the scratch of his quill sounding especially harsh in the overly silent room.

Lockhart sat behind his enormous desk, an elaborately bound notebook open before him. He was clearly in an excellent mood. One hand absentmindedly twirled a quill set with fake gemstones, while the fingers of his other hand waved a wand. One delicate spell after another flashed into existence and vanished in the air, producing faint popping sounds.

Harry forced himself to focus on the letters before him. Then, at that moment—a sound, incredibly faint yet like an icy steel needle, suddenly pierced the silence of the room and the barrier of perfume, drilling straight into his eardrums!

It was a hair-raising scraping sound, like massive metal chains being brutally dragged across cold stone walls. Low and muffled, it carried an evil, viscous quality that made his soul shudder. It seemed to come from inside the walls, beneath the floor, from the deepest and oldest pipes of the castle.

"Hiss... hungry... hissss... kill... eat..." The voice came and went, barely audible, yet it possessed an indescribable penetrating force. It struck directly at Harry's mind, stirring a wave of icy dread and intense revulsion.

It was back!