More and more people gathered on the 2nd floor of the castle, and Filch shoved his way through the crowd with his shoulders. Then he saw Mrs. Norris. He staggered back a few steps, unable to believe his eyes.
The caretaker clearly could not accept this painful reality. In terror, he clutched at his own face. Filch's bulging eyes turned toward Harry, and then he spotted Eda in the crowd. At once, he branded both Eda and Harry as the culprits who had harmed Mrs. Norris.
Eda and Harry—one had more than once threatened him with words, the other had glimpsed his introductory correspondence course in magic. Filch's suspicions, twisted as they were, at least had some "basis."
Pointing a trembling finger at the two of them, Filch shouted, "You! You killed my cat! You murdered her! I'll kill you! I'll—"
The professors arrived quickly as well, and Dumbledore stopped the half-mad Filch before he could hurl himself at either Eda or Harry.
Dumbledore lifted Mrs. Norris down from the torch bracket, then instructed Filch and Harry to follow him, along with Ron and Hermione. Filch was the cat's owner, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the first on the scene—and, moreover, were directly accused by Filch of being the killers.
Ever eager to seize the spotlight, Lockhart stepped forward again, putting on a show of helpfulness. "My office is closest, Headmaster. You can come with me," he said.
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore replied as he started walking out. But then he suddenly turned back and said, "Eda, you come along as well."
Eda pointed at herself, bewildered. She had no idea why Dumbledore was calling her. By the time she'd arrived, the place had already been packed with people.
The silent crowd parted to let them through. Lockhart, looking extremely excited and puffed up, hurried after Dumbledore, as if he had just found new material and a theme for his next book.
Professor McGonagall and Snape followed as well, while Eda trailed unhurriedly behind Professor McGonagall.
When Eda, the last of them, disappeared from sight, the once-silent students broke into whispers. They began speculating about who the Heir might be.
Filch's accusations carried weight, and both Harry and Eda became prime suspects. Still, only a small minority believed Eda could be the Heir.
Those few who did point to her orphan status as the reason. In the minds of those with overactive imaginations, such a background was full of possibilities. Who knew what Eda's identity had been before she ended up in an orphanage?
Perhaps she was even connected to that "old monkey" Slytherin himself.
Lockhart's office was rather dim, decorated in the same style as his classroom, with walls covered in portraits and photographs of himself.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged anxious glances as they sat in a corner, watching everything intently. Eda stood beside Professor McGonagall and quietly asked her about the Chamber of Secrets.
Dumbledore placed Mrs. Norris on the polished tabletop and began to examine her carefully. His crooked long nose nearly touched the cat's fur. Through the lenses of his half-moon glasses, he scrutinized every detail, prodding gently here and poking lightly there with his long, slender fingers.
Professor McGonagall also stepped forward.
Bending down and narrowing her eyes, she peered closely, her face almost touching the cat as well. Snape stood behind the two of them, half-hidden in shadow, his presence dark and oppressive. He first glanced at Harry, then turned his gaze on Eda, his expression unreadable, leaving it unclear what exactly he was thinking.
"It must have been a spell that killed her—most likely the Transfiguration Torture Curse. I've seen it used many times. Such a pity I wasn't there, I just happen to know the counter-curse, I could have saved her…" Lockhart began yet another round of boasting, only to be cut off by Eda.
"Professor, I happened to read about the Transfiguration Torture Curse in a book. Why don't I try it on you, and you can show me the counter-curse?"
Eda's tone dripped with disdain. The atmosphere in the office grew heavy. She hadn't intended to speak up, but Lockhart just had to flaunt himself while stepping right on one of her knowledge points.
At her words, Lockhart fell silent—more silent than even the students outside earlier. Filch buried his face in his arms and sobbed. Whether Lockhart's claim was true or not didn't matter; his Mrs. Norris had suffered a vicious attack.
"Eda, mind your tone," Professor McGonagall returned to Eda's side. Yet her voice carried no reproach—on the contrary, her stance shielded Eda.
Her meaning was clear: She's my student. I've disciplined her enough. You, Lockhart, can get lost.
Dumbledore straightened up and said softly, "She is not dead, Argus."
"Not dead?" Filch choked out, peering at Mrs. Norris through his fingers. "Then why is she—her whole body stiff, as if frozen solid?"
"She has been Petrified," Dumbledore said ("Ah! That's exactly what I thought!" Lockhart interjected), "but as for how it happened, I do not yet know…"
When Filch turned his blotchy, tear-streaked face toward Harry, Dumbledore quickly added, "No student could have done this. It would take a very advanced form of Dark Magic."
But Filch simply would not believe—or perhaps he refused to believe—Dumbledore. He spluttered out his reasons, tears and spittle flying: that Harry had seen his quick-chant lessons and thus knew he was a fraud; that Eda had just threatened him and his cat, and two days later Mrs. Norris was harmed.
Filch's words were full of tears and complaint, but they were merely his own conjectures, untenable—didn't you see Harry hopping up to refute him?
Eda did not look at Dumbledore; she turned to Professor McGonagall and said, "Professor, you know me. If I really intended to strike someone, it would be Filch lying on that table now, not his poor cat."
McGonagall believed her without a doubt.
Not only McGonagall—aside from Filch and Lockhart, everyone in the office believed Eda. She wouldn't take it out on a cat; she simply wouldn't stoop that low.
"Argus, students could not have done this," Dumbledore repeated his earlier words, then comforted Filch a bit: "Don't be too distraught. We should be able to cure Mrs. Norris soon. Professor Sprout has recently procured some Mandrakes. Once they are mature, I will have a draught that can restore Mrs. Norris."
"I'll concoct it," Lockhart butted in. "I've brewed a hundred draughts, I can brew a Mandrake resurrection potion in my sleep—"
The clouds cleared, the rain stopped, and Lockhart felt buoyed again. You, Twist, could you concoct such a potion at your age? His face smug, he glanced at Eda as if to say: Come on then—show us! You can't, can you?
However…
"Excuse me," Snape said coldly, "but I believe I am the Potions Master at this school."
From the moment they had entered the office, Snape had remained in the shadows, silent. Lockhart had completely overlooked his presence, forgetting that such a dangerous figure was in the room at all.
An awkward silence fell over the office. Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't dare breathe; even Filch stifled his sobs. Everyone wondered what on earth was going on in Lockhart's head—why on earth would he go and provoke Snape of all people? Was he in a hurry to die?
"Pfft!"
The silence was broken by a short laugh. All eyes turned toward the sound. Eda quickly waved her hands, signaling that she hadn't meant to.
"Sorry, Professor," she said. "I really couldn't hold it in, and it just slipped out."
Dumbledore looked at Eda with a trace of helplessness. The Headmaster knew this incident had nothing to do with her—he had brought her along only to remind her to be careful, not to repeat the same mistakes she had made last year.
This year's attacks were not orchestrated by Dumbledore, nor were they a trial specially designed for Harry. If Eda acted as recklessly as she had before, she might very well lose her life.
"All right, this no longer concerns you. Go back and rest," Dumbledore said to Eda. "This year is different from the last. I hope you will devote more of your energy to your studies."
Eda glanced once more at the cat before turning to leave. She had barely stepped out of the office, the door not yet fully shut, when Filch's cries started up again, louder than before. The caretaker wanted someone to pay the price.
Right after Filch, Snape began pressing Harry, his sharp questioning only making Harry look more suspicious—after all, Harry refused to tell the whole truth.
Though things were lively inside the office, Eda didn't stay behind to eavesdrop. As she walked toward the common room, she kept repeating Dumbledore's last words to herself.
"This year is not like last year."
"Devote more of your energy to your studies."
At first, the words sounded ordinary enough, just a school Headmaster concerned about a student's academics. But who was Dumbledore? How could he say something so irrelevant in such a moment?
There had to be a hidden meaning.
Recalling the emphasis and pauses in his speech, Eda quickly understood. Dumbledore was sending her a message: this year was not like last year—this year's events had nothing to do with him.
Since the attacks weren't orchestrated by Dumbledore, Eda had no choice but to proceed cautiously, lest she stumble into disaster.
The assaults had come so suddenly, without warning, leaving her with only two clues: "the Chamber" and "the Heir." If she wanted to complete the task issued by the system, she would have to start with those two leads.
Read 12 Chapters ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel