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Aurora Areli
"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? What's going on?"
Probably attracted 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.
At first I thought he was looking at me, but then I realized his gaze was actually set on Harry, who was standing to my left.
"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll —"
"Argus!"
Thankfully, Dumbledore and a few other teachers had arrived on the scene before Filch could do anything besides yell. He swept past Harry, Ron, Hermione and I to detach Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger and Miss Areli."
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.
"My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.
I tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the crowd as they parted to let us pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore with Professors McGonagall and Snape.
When we entered Lockhart's office, there was a flurry of movement across the walls as several portrait Lockharts dodged out of sight, their hair in rollers. Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished surface of Lockhart's desk and began to examine her.
Harry, Hermione, Ron and I exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs out of the pool of light from the candles the real Lockhart had lit, and watched.
The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris' fur. He was examining her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking, with Professor McGonagall doing the same.
Snape loomed behind them, looking creepier than usual, standing half in the shadows. He almost looked like he was trying not to smile. I wouldn't put it past him.
Lockhart, however, was hovering annoyingly 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 . . ."
What a tragedy.
Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. It made me a little uncomfortable, seeing him slumped in a chair by the desk with his face in his hands. Besides that, I couldn't help but feel a sort of sorry for him. Mrs Norris seemed to be his only friend, and I couldn't imagine losing even one of my friends.
