The Destroyer

Chapter 3

Y/n's POV

As I took a walk to clear my head after finishing my assignments, I was hoping for some peace and quiet. However, it seemed fate had other plans. Rumors among the students indicated that Draco and the Golden Trio were at it again. Curious and somewhat apprehensive, I made my way to where the commotion was coming from, eventually spotting the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams gathered together in their uniforms.

"Malfoy?" Harry's voice cut through the tension.

"That's right, and that's not all that's new this year," Draco responded, his tone dripping with a hint of superiority.

"Those are Nimbus 2001s. How did you get those?" Ron asked, his curiosity evident.

"Of course, to Lucius. He always gets whatever we both wish for. But it's usually him wishing for something," Flint, one of Draco's Slytherin teammates, interjected before Draco continued.

"You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best," Draco boasted, a smirk playing on his lips. But then Hermione, the Muggle-born, said something that seemed to strike a nerve.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent," she stated firmly, her words laced with defiance.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," Draco spat back, his tone venomous. His words ignited a fire within me, and I felt the urge to confront him, to defend Hermione.

I struggled to control my anger, but then my scar began to burn, a painful reminder of darker times. Lost in my own thoughts, I barely noticed as Ron cast a spell.

"Eat slugs!" he exclaimed, but instead of Draco, the curse rebounded, hitting Ron himself. The scene unfolded before me, the Gryffindor trio retreating as Ron suffered the consequences of his own spell.

As the commotion settled, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. It was clear that tensions between the Gryffindors and Slytherins were escalating once again, and I feared what the future held.

Harry's POV

"He called me a Mudblood"

Hermione said, her voice tinged with hurt and frustration.

"He did not"

Hagrid countered, but I could see the confusion in his eyes. I, too, was puzzled.

"What's a Mudblood?"

I asked, seeking clarification.

"It means 'dirty bloods.' Mudblood is a foul name for someone who's Muggle-born, someone with non-magical parents. Someone like me. It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation"

Hermione explained, her tone somber. I nodded, beginning to grasp the gravity of the insult.

"See, the thing is, Harry, there are some wizards, like the Malfoy family... who think they're better than everyone else because they're pureblood. But except for Y/n, she's actually a good one. We usually had small talks sometimes when she was in her first year, but once Draco joined Hogwarts, she changed..."

After my enlightening conversation with Hagrid, I found myself spending time with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, can you possibly imagine... a better way to serve detention than by helping me answer my fan mail?"

Lockhart asked with his usual flair.

"Not really"

I replied, somewhat distracted as I worked.

"Fame is a fickle friend, Harry. Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that" 

Lockhart offered cryptically. I frowned, unsure of what he meant, before returning to my tasks. But then, a strange voice began to echo in my mind.

'Come...'

'Come...'

'To me...'

It repeated, sending a chill down my spine.

"What?"

I muttered, looking around in alarm.

"Sorry?"

Lockhart asked, his attention now on me.

"That voice"

I said, my heart pounding.

"Voice?"

I glanced around, feeling increasingly terrified.

"Didn't you hear it?"

I asked again, my voice trembling.

"What are you talking about, Harry? I think you're getting a bit drowsy, and great Scott, no wonder. Look at the time. We've been here for nearly four hours. Spooky how time flies when one is having fun"

Lockhart said, looking around with a hint of nervousness.

"Spooky"

I echoed, feeling a sense of unease settle over me.

Y/n's POV

The voice echoed through my mind with chilling clarity, each word sending shivers down my spine.

'Come...'

'Come...'

'To me...'

The words reverberated, haunting and insistent.

'Blood...'

'I smell blood...'

The voice spoke again, its tone filled with an ominous hunger.

'Let me rip you...'

I froze, feeling a primal fear grip me as the words grew more threatening.

Desperate for answers, I rose from my bed and pressed my ear against the wall, hoping to drown out the disturbing voice.

And then, it came again, louder and more menacing than before.

'Let me kill you...'

'Kill...'

'Kill...'

'Kill!!'

My heart pounded in my chest as the voice repeated the word with increasing intensity, filling me with dread and uncertainty. It was as if the very walls around me were alive with the sinister whispers, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by some unseen presence.

With a sense of foreboding, I retreated from the wall, my mind racing with questions and fears. What was this voice, and why was it speaking to me? And most importantly, what did it want?

"To Be Continued"