"That's the result of everyone's hard work," Vizette said with a smile. "Sorry to trouble you, but I'd like to know more about the secret room. Is that all right?"
"The result of everyone's hard work." The Grey Lady nodded. "The secret room? Which one do you mean?"
"Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets—just last night, Mr. Filch's cat was attacked, and a message was scrawled on the wall," Vizette explained. "It read, 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.' Everyone's speculating it's the Chamber left by Slytherin."
The Grey Lady's expression shifted. "This actually happened?"
Noting her unease, Vizette pressed gently. "The Grey Lady, do you believe the Chamber exists?"
Her face cooled, and she shook her head. "I'm not sure."
"Is that so?" Vizette murmured, then ventured further. "Your surprise earlier—was it because of similar attacks in the past? Attackers claiming to be the 'Heir of Slytherin'?"
A complicated look crossed the Grey Lady's features. "Very perceptive. No wonder you're in Ravenclaw."
"Indeed... about fifty years ago, the Chamber was opened once. But the victim wasn't a cat—it was a Ravenclaw student."
"A Ravenclaw?" Vizette's eyelids flickered. "Mrs. Norris was only petrified, not killed."
"Perhaps it's just another prank." Disgust flickered across the Grey Lady's face. "That's Slytherins for you; otherwise, the legend wouldn't persist."
Vizette leaned in. "Would you mind sharing the victim's name?"
"Myrtle Warren," the Grey Lady replied indifferently. "She was nothing like you—always sniffling and wailing. Even death didn't quiet her."
"More ferocious after death?" Vizette frowned, glancing at the Grey Lady's ethereal form. "So... she's a ghost now?"
"Yes." The Grey Lady nodded and began to float upward. "If you want to find her, try the girls' bathroom on the second floor. She haunts it."
Vizette bowed. "Thank you for sharing this."
The Grey Lady nodded, her form half-sinking into the ceiling. "If you have questions about magic, come to me. You're not a bad conversationalist."
"Of course! Thank you again!"
As he reflected on the talk, a detail jogged his memory: the Grey Lady had asked, "What do you mean by the secret room?" He called out quickly. "The Grey Lady—does Rowena Ravenclaw have a secret room too?"
Only the hem of her skirt remained visible. She chuckled. "Seek it if you dare; only fools or the wise can find it!"
"Only fools and the wise?" Vizette pulled out his notebook and jotted it down.
He didn't stop there, summarizing the conversation and extracting key details: the Chamber's history, Myrtle's death, her haunting spot.
---
Before Vizette reached the hospital wing, he spotted a cluster of first-years peeking around, Colin among them.
He chuckled. "What are you lot up to?"
"He's the hero who took down Filch!" they chorused, parting to let him through.
"Here to see the cat? Madam Pomfrey won't let us in. Want to join?"
"Thanks, but I need to check inside." Vizette smiled and pushed open the door.
Outside, the first-years buzzed. "No wonder he's the Filch-slayer—he's facing Madam Pomfrey head-on!"
Amused and a touch exasperated, Vizette wondered what tall tales Colin had spun.
Inside, Madam Pomfrey wasn't alone—Dumbledore and Filch were there too. Dumbledore sat quietly, observing Filch as he massaged Mrs. Norris and fed her a handful of Cockroach Clusters.
Madam Pomfrey watched Dumbledore munch through his own pile, arching a brow. "Albus, show some restraint. That's your second bag."
"Madam Pomfrey, Headmaster, Mr. Filch—good afternoon," Vizette greeted, stepping forward.
"Good afternoon," Dumbledore replied with a nod. As Madam Pomfrey smiled, he conjured another bag. "Poppy, Filch—mind giving us a moment?"
"Good afternoon... of course," Filch muttered, glancing back as he shuffled out.
"Good afternoon, Vizette." Madam Pomfrey snatched the bag on her way out. "I'll return this later."
Dumbledore shook his head with a wry smile. "All right, then."
He dragged over a stool and patted it. "Mrs. Norris first, or shall I brief you?"
"I'll examine her myself." Vizette approached, wand in hand, closing his eyes to extend his senses through it—safer than touch.
"Intense dark magic... a curse, laced with malice. But it's off... vicious, yet unfamiliar."
Vizette opened his eyes, frowning. "Headmaster, she's petrified, but something's wrong. This malice doesn't match the Obscurus—I'm attuned to those shadows, and this is different."
He raised his wand, tracing a fluid "S." "Evanesco!"
With the incantation—echoing Ancient Magic's purifying essence—a thick black aura seeped from Mrs. Norris, veined with dark-green lightning.
Dumbledore's brow furrowed as the aura materialized. "That's no mere malice—it's pure killing intent."
He flicked his wand toward the window; moments later, a wriggling salmon soared in.
Vizette directed the black mist at it. The fish thrashed wildly as the aura engulfed it, then stilled. Its scales turned ashen, life ebbing away in seconds.
—