The Writing on the Wall

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Castiel backed up against the un-graffitied part of the wall, but had nowhere to hide. He could feel the hundreds of eyes on him and felt his chest constrict. Gabriel detached himself from the crowd and crouched in front of Castiel, yellow prefect badge flashing.

'What happened?' he asked in a low voice. Castiel shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the feeling of being watched. Gabriel grimaced.

'What's going on here? What's going on?'

Attracted no doubt my 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. Castiel shrunk away from Filch, whose popping eyes fell on Harry.

'You!' he screeched. 'You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you!'

'Back off!' Gabriel said loudly, standing between Filch and Harry.

'I'll kill him! I'll-'

'Argus!'

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of teachers. In seconds he had swept past the Gryffindors and Sherlock and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

'Come with me, Argus,' he said to Filch. 'And you six.'

'Headmaster, may I come as well?' Gabriel asked.

'No, Gabriel. I need you and the other Prefects to make sure the students are back in their dormitories.'

'Yes, sir.'

Gabriel turned to Castiel.

'Listen, you haven't done anything wrong, okay? You'll be fine,' he said bracingly.

Castiel nodded and Gabriel patted him gently on the shoulder, before going to shepherd the rest of the students away.

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

'My office is nearest, Headmaster- just upstairs-please feel free-'

'Thank you, Gilderoy,' said Dumbledore. John walked beside Castiel, whispering a stream of encouragements to him as they went. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore. As did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office, there was a flurry of movement across the walls. Several of the Lockharts in the pictures were dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back to allow Dumbledore to lay Mrs Norris on the polished surface. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and John sank apprehensively into chairs, and Sherlock sat, cross-legged, on a table. Castiel, again, backed into a wall and hoped he would melt out of sight. He couldn't keep his eyes off of Mrs Norris and imagined a look of terror on her feline features. He held his breath while Dumbledore examined her. The silence was heavy and tense and all eyes, even the Lockharts on the walls in the pictures who had pulled their rollers out, were fixed on Dumbledore and the cat. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close as Dumbledore, Snape lurked in the shadows with a peculiar expression on his face- as if he were trying to cover up a smile- and Lockhart buzzed around them, making suggestions.

'It was definitely a curse that killed her- probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used so many times, so unlucky I wasn't there; I know the very counter-curse that could have saved her.'

'Are you aware that you're talking out loud, or do the words just skip your brain and go straight to your mouth?' Sherlock said abruptly to Lockhart. Hermione gasped and Castiel slid down the wall slightly out of shock. Professor McGonagall frowned at Sherlock, while Lockhart flicked a sharp glare at him, though he soon concealed it with his previous excited expression. Filch, however, paid no attention, as he was too busy crying loudly with his hands over his face.

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