"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 167: The Corridor of Terror
Colin Creevey clutched his camera tightly as he tiptoed through the portrait hole and hurried out of the Gryffindor common room.
The Fat Lady, lounging in her frame, yawned and called after him lazily, "Curfew's about to start! Miss it, and you'll be sleeping in the corridor!"
"Don't worry, Fat Lady! I'm just off to check on Harry—I'll be right back." Colin nodded, feeling the warmth of the common room fireplace fade rapidly behind him.
It had poured rain all day, and the moisture still clung to the ancient stones of Hogwarts, making the castle damp and the floors slick beneath his shoes.
With curfew looming, the corridors were empty—eerily so.
Colin gripped his camera tighter and quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing across the deserted hallways.
Dim torches cast trembling shadows that flickered along the walls, stretching and shrinking like lurking phantoms with every leap of the flames.
Each step he took sounded impossibly loud, the echoes bouncing back at him like the beat of a distant drum.
For some reason, tales of the Chamber of Secrets crept into his mind. He pressed his lips together, not daring to make a sound, terrified of rousing something monstrous from the darkness.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but his heartbeat seemed thunderous in the hush of the corridor.
Should he turn back?
The thought flashed through his mind.
No! Ginny was worried about Harry too—she wanted to know how he was doing. And as president of the "Harry Potter Fan Club," how could he let down his vice president? He couldn't back out now!
Determined, Colin sped up, his thoughts whirling. Distracted, he let the shifting staircases lead him astray, and found himself wandering a fourth-floor corridor by mistake.
Just as he rounded a corner and regained his bearings, a blast of icy air struck him like a slap. The hair on his arms stood up, and cold sweat prickled down his spine.
The chill seemed to sharpen his senses. He could feel a wave of cold malice pressing in from all sides, suffocating him.
There was a faint, pungent scent in the air—something reptilian, something primal.
Normally, he'd never have noticed such a subtle odor, but now it was overpowering, magnified by fear until it threatened to choke him.
Was it the monster from the Chamber?
Colin tried to make his steps as silent as possible, hoping that stealth might save him from whatever lay in wait.
He swallowed hard, his camera suddenly his only comfort.
Moving with agonizing slowness, he edged backward, raising the camera to his eye and peering through the viewfinder, desperate for any sign of danger.
Terror crackled through his body like electricity. His heart was racing, pounding out a frantic rhythm—Flight of the Bumblebee on the inside of his ribs.
The stench was growing stronger, closer—yet he saw nothing.
His breathing quickened. His fingers hovered, rigid, over the shutter button, but he couldn't summon the strength to press it.
It wasn't just his hands; his whole body had gone stiff, frozen in place. He wanted to scream, to run, but he couldn't move a muscle.
His heart hammered faster and faster, the roar of it in his ears so loud it drowned out all else.
Time seemed to stop. Suddenly, something seized his arm—a thin, cold grip, with a slick, fleshy texture…
A wave of pure, bone-deep terror swept through him, icy and absolute. It was the despair of facing death itself, the helplessness that made his entire life flash before his eyes—from birth to Hogwarts and everything in between.
Colin's mouth opened wide, but only a hoarse, strangled gasp escaped.
In his ear, a shrill, ghostly voice whispered:
"Found you!"
He had no idea what horror awaited him. Summoning the last of his strength, Colin slammed his finger down on the shutter.
Bang!
A blinding white flash exploded, flooding the corridor with light—
Wyzett strode to the desk and yanked out a crumpled piece of parchment.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"
The Marauder's Map sprang to life, unfurling to reveal a web of corridors and countless moving names.
Dumbledore hurried to his side, rapping sharply on the desk.
Crack!
A house-elf appeared with a pop. "Headmaster Dumbledore, how may I serve you?"
Wyzett scanned the map, instantly pinpointing the location—and a familiar name: Colin Creevey.
"Headmaster! Colin's on the fourth floor—he's run into the serpent!"
Dumbledore didn't hesitate. "Go to the place Wyzett indicated. Bring Colin back, immediately!"
Crack!
The house-elf vanished in a burst of sound, urgency etched on its face.
"The serpent appeared out of nowhere! That corridor should have been protected…" Wyzett frowned, surprise in his voice.
Just as Colin's name vanished from the map, the Serpentsong Whistle's alarm abruptly ceased. "It's vanished again… There's something we're missing…"
Crack!
The house-elf returned, clutching Colin.
"Aaah!" Colin shrieked, the sound piercing.
"Silencio!" Snape snapped, wand flicking to cut off the scream. "Quiet!"
"Finite Incantatem." Dumbledore lifted the spell, gently kneeling beside Colin. "You're safe now, child."
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" Colin rubbed his eyes, blinking at the bright lights of the headmaster's office. "Wyzett! Harry!"
"Out after curfew… and nearly killed. That's a serious offense." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."
Harry and Colin—true Gryffindors—shouted in perfect unison, "Fifty points?!"
Dumbledore straightened, his smile shifting into a soft cough.
Snape smirked coldly, arms folded, but said nothing more.
Wyzett only pressed his lips together. He'd seen this before. This time, Snape had every right. They were lucky to have escaped the serpent's attack at all.
But Wyzett's focus was still on the serpent itself.
Suddenly, he remembered Colin's camera. "Colin, your camera—did you bring it? Did you get a picture?"
"I did!" Colin nodded frantically. "I took a photo—just before I was pulled away! I hit the shutter!"
"Headmaster, there could be clues. The serpent's disappeared again…" Wyzett closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses. "None of the Serpentsong Whistles are giving an alarm now."
Dumbledore turned to the house-elf. "Would you please fetch the items Colin dropped?"
Moments later—crack!—the house-elf returned, camera in hand.
"Thank you. You may rest now." Dumbledore took the camera, flicked his wand, and opened the back.
He was greeted by a burst of acrid, burnt plastic and a cloud of black smoke…
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