"It wasn't me!"
Harry stood in the corridor, defending himself as he pointed at a torch bracket. Hanging from it was a stiff, grey cat, its yellow eyes wide and unblinking like lightbulbs.
Harry felt both unlucky and wronged. He had finally finished his detention and was about to return to the dormitory to rest.
Instead, he heard that cold, sinister whisper again in the corridor, exactly the same as the one he had heard in Lockhart's office earlier.
The repeated mentions of blood, killing, and devouring filled Harry with dread. Afraid that some unknown monster was about to harm people in the castle, he followed the sound and suddenly came upon Madam Norris hanging there. Filch's cat looked dead, its body frighteningly stiff.
But even more chilling were the red words on the wall:
"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!"
The pungent red liquid was clearly blood.
Filch stood before his cat, wailing with his face in his hands. Madam Norris was his only companion. As a Squib who did not belong in this wizarding school, only an ordinary house cat would listen to him.
More and more people, drawn by Filch's cries, began to gather. Harry wanted to explain himself, but he did not know how. That cold, eerie whisper seemed to be heard only by him. When he had asked Lockhart earlier, Lockhart said he had heard nothing.
"Why? Why do this to my cat? Why do this to me!?"
Just as Filch was about to break down, Dumbledore arrived with a group of professors.
The striking bloodstains on the wall and the motionless cat caused a sharp light to flash in Dumbledore's eyes.
Seeing Dumbledore, Filch spoke emotionally.
"Headmaster, I.. someone.. my cat was killed. It's.. It's Harry Potter. It MUST be him! He was right—"
Dumbledore was already examining Madam Norris. His blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses glinted faintly. He then raised a hand to stop Filch's incoherent rambling.
"Argus, Madam Norris is not dead."
Hearing Dumbledore's words, Filch remained in disbelief.
"But.. but she has no breath or heartbeat, and she's so… so stiff. She was clearly so lively and agile before…"
Filch began to cry again as he spoke, causing the gathered young wizards to exchange looks. Normally, Filch was harsh and seemed to hold a grudge against everyone. Today, he was actually crying like this over a cat?
"Right, right, Harry Potter, you said it wasn't you, but… but you were at the scene. Did you see—"
Before Filch could finish his anxious words, he was interrupted.
"Oh, Harry was helping me reply to fan mail earlier. He only finished a short while ago. I think he simply had the misfortune of coming across this distressing scene."
As Lockhart spoke, he pulled Harry to his side. He did not wear his usual smile. Instead, he looked solemn, as if using his reputation to vouch for Harry.
After saying this, Lockhart said no more. He did not step forward as he usually would to claim he knew what curse Madam Norris had suffered or how it should be lifted.
Harry, whose arm was being held by Lockhart, felt a twinge of pain. Lockhart was gripping too tightly.
Lockhart's sudden statement disappointed Snape, who had intended to find fault. Snape turned back to continue examining the strangely afflicted cat.
Lucien, standing among the crowd, watched the scene coldly.
The acting was acceptable, but it could have been more natural. If Lockhart had made up some nonsense as usual and brought up his so-called adventures, it would have been more convincing and in line with people's expectations.
He appeared to be testifying for Harry, but in reality, he was also having Harry provide an alibi for himself.
The idea young Tom had given Lockhart was not bad.
Come to think of it, that hourglass was quite interesting. Hypnosis?
In this short time, Dumbledore had already identified the condition.
"Madam Norris has been Petrified."
Hearing this, Filch seemed even more agitated.
"Then who did it? Which student? He wrote those words in blood. Is he hostile toward Muggle-born wizards? Hostile toward Squibs? Why, why…"
Seeing this, Dumbledore sighed and comforted him.
"It's all right. We can cure her."
"Do not suspect the students. This is a very rare form of Dark Magic. No student could possibly master a curse of this level."
Dumbledore then looked at Professor Sprout.
"I know of a potion that can lift this Petrification. We just need to wait for the school's Mandrakes to mature. Professor Sprout has planted quite a few."
Having relaxed slightly, Lockhart seemed to remember his persona. To appear perfectly normal as Tom had instructed in the diary, he quickly chimed in.
"I can brew it! Oh, I've brewed that potion no less than a hundred times. I could even do it in my sleep—"
Snape, already irritated with Lockhart, saw that this man had not only taken the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor but also had the audacity to claim he would take over the work of the actual Potions Professor.
Snape fixed Lockhart with an unfriendly stare.
"I am the Potions Professor."
Rebuffed by Snape, Lockhart awkwardly fell silent, shrinking back into the background.
"Um, if Mandrakes are needed, I have some here."
Dumbledore, who had been about to dismiss the crowd, saw a hand raised among them. When he saw Lucien's face, he was surprised, yet not entirely so.
It seemed quite natural for Lucien to grow Mandrakes.
"That's wonderful. Lucien, you've made a contribution to the school."
Dumbledore praised him while gesturing for him to come forward. On the surface, he remained calm, but with such a malicious incident occurring within the school, he naturally wanted to resolve it as quickly as possible.
"Professor, would you like to check whether this Mandrake juice meets the standard first?"
Lucien asked Professor Sprout as he took a large glass jar from his pocket. It was filled with a purplish-green liquid, Mandrake juice.
Looking at the large jar, Sprout's eyelid twitched slightly. She wondered just how many Mandrakes this child had grown.
No wonder Lucien had been so skilled at handling Mandrakes in class before.
As she opened the jar to begin inspecting it, Sprout spoke in a low voice.
"Lucien, you must be careful when growing so many Mandrakes. You know that once they mature…"
Lucien nodded to show he understood.
"Don't worry. I've been making some potions and small items lately that happen to use these plants. I'm very careful."
Of course, he had originally been curious about the power of a mature Mandrake, which was enough to knock someone unconscious or even scream them to death.
"After all, Biting Cabbage, Mandrakes, and Venomous Tentacula are the hallmarks of Herbology combat."
"Unfortunately, unless these magical plants undergo special cultivation or are combined with magic, they are mostly supplementary in actual combat."
Professor Sprout quickly finished her inspection.
"The quality of this Mandrake juice is excellent. It can be considered top-grade and will definitely meet the brewing requirements."
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