A Hogwarts Legend: Round Two [2]

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen- "Skittles have a weird effect on me."

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Filch comes shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he sees Mrs Norris and falls back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?" he shrieks.

And his popping eyes fall on Harry and I.

Well...... Shit.

"You!" he screeches, "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you both! I'll -"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore has arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he's swept past us and detaches Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he says to Filch. "You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Swift, Miss Wragg, Miss Eaglestone."

That's a long list -_-

Lockhart steps forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free -"

Pretentious prick.

"Thank you, Gilderoy," says Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parts to let us pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important (git), hurries after Dumbledore; so do Professors McGonagall and Snape.

"Dumbledore's like a superhero, but more awesome and less athletic," Maya grins.

"I don't know. He looks like gymnast to me," El laughs quietly.

"Imagine Dumbledore doing a cartwheel," I giggle.

"Shut up," Hermione hisses.

How can we find a situation like this funny? I don't know, that's just how we are.

As we enter Lockhart's darkened office there is a flurry of movement across the walls; I watch several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. Sniggering, I cough to smother my laughter.

The real Lockhart lights the candles on his desk and stands back. Dumbledore lays Mrs Norris on the polished surface and begins to examine her. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I exchange tense looks, Maya and Elinor are too busy laughing at Lockhart in rollers, and they sink into chairs outside the pool of candle light, watching. I sink to the floor and lean against Harry's chair legs.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose is barely an inch from Mrs Norris's fur. He's looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall is bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape looms behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: it is as though he's trying hard not to smile.

What a creepy thought.

And Lockhart is hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her - probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her ..."

Lockhart's comments are punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He's slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. Much as I don't like Filch, I can't help but feel sorry for him, but not as much as I'm worrying about us.