Eternal Despair (Harry Potter/OC)

𝟡: The Writing

"What’s going on here? What’s going on?" Argus Filch's grating voice cut through the tense silence as he pushed his way through the crowd, undoubtedly drawn by the commotion caused by Malfoy's shout. The caretaker's eyes widened in horror as he caught sight of Mrs. Norris, his beloved cat, hanging limp and lifeless. He stumbled back, clutching his face in sheer terror.

"My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked, his voice cracking with anguish. His bulging eyes darted around until they landed accusingly on Harry. "You!" he screeched, pointing a trembling finger. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll—"

"Argus!"

The authoritative voice of Albus Dumbledore silenced Filch's tirade. The headmaster, accompanied by several other teachers, strode purposefully into the scene. In a matter of seconds, Dumbledore had pushed past the onlookers, including Enzo, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and gently detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," Dumbledore instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart, ever eager to insert himself into any situation, stepped forward. "My office is nearest, Headmaster. Just upstairs, please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore interrupted with a nod of acknowledgment, yet with a clear indication that his offer was neither needed nor appreciated.

The crowd, still silent and tense, parted to let the group pass. Lockhart, looking both excited and self-important, hurried after Dumbledore, along with Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Upon entering Lockhart's darkened office, the flamboyant professor quickly lit the candles on his desk, stepping back to allow Dumbledore room to work. The headmaster laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began his examination. Enzo, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged anxious glances before sinking into chairs just outside the pool of candlelight, their eyes never leaving Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's long, crooked nose hovered inches above Mrs. Norris's fur as he scrutinized her through his half-moon spectacles. His fingers, gentle yet methodical, prodded and poked, searching for any signs of life. Beside him, Professor McGonagall bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Snape loomed in the background, half-concealed in shadow, his face twisted into an odd expression that suggested he was fighting not to smile. Lockhart, meanwhile, bustled about, making suggestions that were both unhelpful and self-aggrandizing.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her, probably the Transmogrifian Torture," Lockhart declared confidently. "I’ve seen it used many times. So unlucky I wasn’t there; I know the very countercurse that would have saved her."

His commentary was punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. Enzo glanced over to see Filch slumped in a chair, his face buried in his hands, unable to bear the sight of his beloved pet.

"As much as I dislike Filch, I don’t think anyone deserves this," Enzo whispered to his friends. Harry fidgeted nervously in his chair, clearly worried that if Dumbledore believed Filch’s accusations, expulsion would be inevitable.

Dumbledore, now muttering incantations under his breath, tapped Mrs. Norris with his wand, but nothing happened. She remained stiff and motionless, as though she had been recently stuffed.

"I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," Lockhart said, launching into another tale. "A series of attacks—the full story's in my autobiography. I provided the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once."

The photographs of Lockhart adorning the walls nodded in agreement, their animated expressions mirroring his self-satisfaction. At last, Dumbledore straightened up.