Adelaide Gracia

Ch 22- Writing on the wall & Putting an idiot at his place

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Argus Filch came shouldering 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 some other teachers.

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

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

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; they saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back.

Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow.

And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making 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 dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand, but nothing happened: She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

". . . 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. . . ."

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

Adelaide had had enough of his nonsense.

"Professor Lockhart, please stop," she said exasperatedly. Lockhart stopped talking at once. Somehow, the teachers' face held a victory smirk on hearing Lockhart be shut down by one of his students, who didn't seem to believe an inch of his nonsense, just like them.

At last, Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs Norris. "But why's she all — 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 —"