Very well. In that case, you may go. But straight to your common room, Harry, the corridors are no place for you to be at present," Dumbledore said, turning back to his desk.
Harry nodded, only vaguely hearing McGonagall ask the headmaster what she was to tell the staff, but distracted as Snape moved towards him.
Quickly, Harry averted his eyes to the floor.
"Harry," his guardian began.
Harry took a couple of steps backwards, towards the door.
"I will escort you back to the tower. I will not have you loitering around the corridors, and in any case, I'd like to talk to you about–" Snape began.
Taking his opportunity, Harry bolted back towards the stone steps, which began to move him down and out of the office before his guardian could do anything more.
"Potter!" he heard the potions master call, but he was already back on the ground, and took off at a run.
He ran blindly for some time then, until he had put enough distance between himself and the headmaster's office. He knew in the back of his head that she shouldn't have run, and certainly shouldn't be alone in the castle with everything that was happening.
But he just needed some time alone, time to think. He was starting to feel overwhelmed with the weight of the problems that just seemed to keep on multiplying.
For a start, he still hadn't told anybody other than Ron and Hermione about the voices. With everything that Dobby had said, he knew Snape was out of the question, but what had stopped him telling Dumbledore? Or even his Head of House?
He'd had the perfect opportunity just now of course, when the headmaster had openly asked him if there was anything he wanted to share. But something had stopped him.
Harry's mind turned to the scene he had stumbled upon earlier that evening – the Hufflepuff boy and one of the castle's ghosts, both petrified. He had heard the voice again, just before. That couldn't be a coincidence.
And that hadn't been the only thing. He'd seen the spiders again too, hoards of them, scurrying in the opposite direction.
Suddenly lost, Harry stopped. The corridor, although close to the DADA classroom, was not one he was familiar with, and suddenly he'd lost all sense of purpose.
Where was he going anyway?
Kicking at a piece of loose stone on the floor, Harry looked up at the portrait hanging closest to him on the wall – a picture of a young boy, no older than 5 or 6, sitting on a man's lap.
His father, no doubt.
Harry exhaled. He wanted nothing more than to go down to the dungeons, to change into his pyjamas and curl up beside the potions master, tell him everything that had happened. But…
"Even those Harry Potter trusts the most could be mixed up in these plans… such horrible plans… must not set foot in the serpent's lair!"
He shook his head, resignedly. That wasn't an option – he would have to figure this out by himself.
Just then, a voice behind him.
"Look at this. It's Pathetic Potter."
Malfoy.
Sure enough, when Harry turned round, there stood his bleach-blonde nemesis, flanked by his two bodyguards. Subconsciously, he slid his wand from his sleeve and into his hand.
"What's the matter Potter? Can't find any snakes to talk to?" Malfoy sneered.
Harry shrugged. "There seem to be plenty around here."
"Hear that, Crabbe? Goyle? Potter thinks he's clever," the other boy scoffed. "What are you doing all alone on this corridor, Potter? Your new father let you out, all by yourself? I'm surprised he's not here, holding your hand."
"Careful Draco, he might petrify us all!" Crabbe snorted, sending Goyle into fits of laughter.
Harry turned and continued down the corridor, but the footsteps behind him told him the three Slytherins were in pursuit.