"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, 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 a number of other teachers, and even Edgar. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, Hermione, his eyes lingering on me for a moment and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."
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 us pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Edgar.
As we entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; I rolled my eyes as 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 lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.
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, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile.
Edgar, I saw with glee, was secretly setting fire to a couple of the poster of Lockhart around the room, 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 countercurse that would have saved her..."
"We should try that sometime Gilderoy." Edgar said, which caused Lockhart to gulp and look at him slightly frightened.
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. Much as I detested Filch, I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him.
Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand, which I caught a glimpse of and was surprised to see it looked almost identical to Edgar's, but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed
"... I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," 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 hair net.
"Ah yes your... books." Edgar said. "They make surprisingly good firewood."
At last Dumbledore straightened up.
"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.
Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.
YOU ARE READING
The Weasley of Slytherin: The Chamber of Secrets
Fanfiction(Y/n) Weasley. The only of the Weasley children to be sorted into Slytherin. After a break full of mischief with his brothers he is returning to Hogwarts for his second year, although what awaits him is beyond his imagination.
