Not Again//Harry Potter [2]

11

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch made his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked. And his popping eyes fell on Harry. "You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—" 

"Argus!" Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Autumn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Grey, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster, just upstairs, please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The four silently followed Dumbledore, as the students whispers filled the hall. The other professors followed Dumbledore to Lockhart's classroom.

Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface in Lockhart's office and began to examine her. Autumn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching. Dumbledore studied the cat for, what seemed like ages, but was only a few minutes. Every few seconds, Lockhart would make a suggestion.

"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 countercurse that would have saved her. . ."

Autumn stared at the ring on her finger, twiddling it with her fingers like she did with her necklace. What was that voice, and why could Ron and Hermione not hear it? 

". . .I remember something very similar happening in Oua-gadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once. . ."

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she a-all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore. "But how, I cannot say. . ."

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found -- in my office -- he knows I'm a -- I'm a—" Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

Autumn looked to Hermione for answers, but for once she stared at the ground in silence.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

The four all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. ". . .there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there—"

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Ron and Hermione looked at Autumn and Harry.

"Because -- because —" Harry struggled to find an excuse.

"Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," Hermione finished.

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Autumn internally sighed, shaking her head at Ron's giant appetite.

Snape's nasty smile widened. 

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter are not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel Potter should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

Dumbledore was staring at Autumn and Harry, the two both awkwardly stared at each other until Dumbledore stopped.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.

Snape looked furious, as did Filch. "My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Autumn, Ron, and Hermione. They went, as quickly as they could without actually running.

When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces.

"D'you think we should have told them about that voice we heard?" Harry asked looking at Hermione, Ron, and Autumn.

"No," said Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Something in Ron's voice made Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But, you must admit it's weird. . . ."

Autumn looked at Harry. "What did you hear it say? Maybe we heard different things."

"I heard it say something like, 'been hungry for so long' and—"

"and 'time to kill'?" Autumn finished.

"Exactly!" Harry said. "The whole thing is so weird. What was that writing on the wall about? 'The Chamber Has Been Opened'. . . What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once. . . might've been Bill. . ."

"And what on earth's a Squib?" said Harry.

To his surprise, Ron stifled a snigger. "Well, it's not funny really, but as it's Filch," he said. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron gave a satisfied smile. "He's bitter."

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else." 

Autumn agreed silently as the four ran back to the Common Room.