Clara Diggory, Girl of Secrets - a HP fanfic

Chapter 9 - A Mystery

“What's going on here? What's going on?”

Attracted, most likely, by Malfoy's shout, Filch made his way through the crowd of pupils. Then he saw Mrs Norris and fell back, horrified.

“My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?” He shrieked.

And then his 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, followed by a number of other professors. He swept past us and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

“Come with me, Argus,” He said to Filch. “You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Diggory.”

I tried to stop myself from trembling. If we were expelled, who knows what my father would do. And the scene itself was horrifying enough.

Lockhart had stepped forward eagerly.

“My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free –”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Said Dumbledore.

We made our way through the crowd of people. Discreetly and quickly, so no one else would see, Draco grabbed my shaking hand and squeezed it supportively, before letting go.

We entered Lockhart's darkened office without a word. He lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron and Hermione all sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, but I stayed standing – I was too tense to do anything.

Dumbledore was inspecting Mrs Norris closely through his half-moon glasses, his nose almost touching her fur; McGonagall was almost as close, eyes narrowed, and Snape was looming behind them, half in shadow, and – it looked like he was trying not to smile. Lockhart was hovering around them, making stupid 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 were punctuated by Filch's sobs. I myself couldn't take much more of the tension and let one tear slide down my face, grateful for the dark. I could still feel Harry's eyes on me, though.

Dumbledore was now muttering under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand, but there was no change. Oh Merlin, what if she really was completely dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it?

“I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou,” 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...”

Dumbledore straightened up.

“She's not dead, Argus,” He said.

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

“Not dead?” Choked Filch. “But why's she all – all stiff and frozen?”

“She's been Petrified,” Said Dumbledore. “But how, I cannot say...”

“Ask him!” Shrieked Filch, turning 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. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found – in my office – he knows I'm a – I'm a – he knows I'm a Squib!”