Ron-Weasly book 2. part 7

"What's going on here? Ar?" Argus Filch pushed through the crowd when he heard Malfoy, but at the sight of his cat, he backed away and clutched his head in horror. "What's wrong with my cat? What?" He screamed, his eyes bulging.

And then he noticed Harry.

"It's you! You killed my cat!" screamed Filch. "I'll kill you myself... oh, you..."

He rushed to his friend, pushing through the crowd.

"Calm down, Argus."

McGonagall put a reassuring hand on the caretaker's shoulder. Dumbledore appeared, accompanied by several professors. Strutting past the three of us, he carefully removed Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket. Come with me, Argus. You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger. Lockhart, beaming, approached Dumbledore.

"My office is the closest, Mr. Director, right up the stairs. Come to my place..."

"Thank you, Gilderoy," the director replied.

"The crowd silently parted." Lockhart, proud and pleased, hurried after Dumbledore, followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape. Filch, looking at the cat in the director's arms, brought up the rear.

As soon as we entered the office, portraits of Lockhart ran off the walls, all with their hair in curlers. The lively Lockhart lit candles on his desk and moved away, giving way to Dumbledore, who put the cat on the table and began to study it carefully. Harry, Hermione, and I exchanged glances and sat down on chairs away from the light. Dumbledore was gently feeling Mrs. Norris, almost touching her fur with the tip of his hooked nose, on which half-glasses sat. Professor McGonagall was also leaning over the cat, squinting like Dumbledore. Snape retreated into the shadows, a faint smile curling his lips. Lockhart paced around the office, making guess after guess.

"The cat was definitely killed by a spell. Most likely, Transmogrifian torture. I've seen it work so many times! It's a pity that I wasn't around: I know the opposite spell. I would have saved the cat....

Filch was sitting in a chair next to the desk, helplessly pressing his hands to his face and sobbing after every word Lockhart said.; He didn't have the courage to look at Mrs. Norris. Dumbledore kept whispering, tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand, but in vain, the cat showed no signs of life, just like an artfully made scarecrow.

"To Ouagadougou," Lockhart continued as he walked, "There have been several similar cases in a row, they are described in detail in my biography. I remember handing out a few amulets, and the disaster stopped...."

The returned portraits of Lockhart on the walls nodded their heads in agreement, one of them forgot to remove the hairnet from his hair.

Finally Dumbledore straightened up and said thoughtfully:

"She's alive, Argus." — Well, thank Merlin. This bastard won't try to kill Harry. I'd like to convince him that we didn't do it. Lockhart paused in disappointment: who's going to listen to how many murders he's managed to prevent now?

"Is she alive?" Filch said faintly, spreading his fingers and looking at Mrs. Norris. "But... but she's stiff."

"Numb," Dumbledore corrected.

"It's as clear as day!" Lockhart interjected.

"From what, I don't know yet...."

"That's who knows!" Filch took his hands away from his tear-stained face and stared at Harry. What had his friend done to him?

"A second-year student can't do that," said Dumbledore, "We are dealing with the most sophisticated black magic...."

"It's him, it's him," Filch yelled, sputtering and blushing. "You saw what he wrote on the wall. He found it in my room...."

Filch paused shyly. Then I finally decided to say

"He knows I'm... I'm... he knows I'm a squib", Completely embarrassed, he said softly.

Yeah, well, yes. I've never seen him do magic. And why did they take him to a magic school? Even brownies don't obey him.

"I didn't lay a finger on Mrs. Norris," Harry said firmly. Everyone, even the Lockharts on the walls, looked at him reproachfully. "I've never even heard of squibs." I told him about my mom's cousin. Or did he not understand?

"Don't lie!" Filch got angry. "You've seen my Correspondence Course in Witchcraft for Beginners."

"Mr. Director, let me say," Snape's voice came from the shadows. "Potter and his friends, of course, could have accidentally turned up at the crime scene", He started and smiled, as if he didn't believe his own words. "But here's the strange thing: why did they come up into this corridor at all? And why did they leave the ghost festival?"

"All the ghosts saw us there...." The three of us defended ourselves with one voice.

"Yes, but why did you leave anyway?" Snape was asking, candlelight dancing in his black eyes. "Why did you have to go upstairs?"

Hermione and I looked at Harry. It would be better if he didn't talk about that voice. They'll also take you for a psycho.

"We... we..." he hesitated.

"We were very tired and wanted to sleep." I said quickly.

"What about dinner?" A malicious smile curved Snape's thin face. "There doesn't seem to be anything edible at ghost parties."

"We took sandwiches to the bedroom for lunch," I said to the plaintive accompaniment of my stomach. Snape grinned.

"In my opinion, Mr. Headmaster, Potter is clearly hiding something. Punish him and he will tell the truth. I would expel him from the Gryffindor team."

"Come on, Severus," Professor McGonagall intervened, "just expel it right away!"

"You didn't hit a cat on the head with a broomstick. And there's no evidence at all that Potter took her life."

Dumbledore was staring at Harry intently.

"He's innocent, Severus. The opposite has not yet been proven." Dumbledore reminded Professor Snape.

Snape trembled with barely suppressed indignation. Still angry that we weren't expelled. Filch's eyes bulged again.

"My cat is petrified! He must be punished!" he yelled.

"We'll disenchant your cat, Argus", the director reassured Filch. "Professor Sprout has mandrakes. When they grow up, we'll make a potion and revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make this medicine," Lockhart persisted. "I have a lot of experience! I can make living water from mandrakes with my eyes closed...."

"Allow me," Snape replied coldly, "but I think I'm a potions expert at school." There was an awkward silence. I was glad that Snape had sent Lockhart. I wouldn't want that peacock to poison anyone. Even Filch's cat.

"You are dismissed," Dumbledore dismissed us.

Harry, Hermione, and I almost ran out of Lockhart's office and went upstairs to lock ourselves in the classroom. We're depressed. Damn, but now everyone thinks that we bewitched the cat. Harry looked at us sideways.

Do you think I should have told you about the voice?

"Of course not," I replied. "If you see a voice, it's a bad sign, even in the magical world."

"But do you believe me?"

"Of course, it's just... you know... it's all weird...."

"I know it's weird," Harry replied. "And then there are these words on the wall. "THE SECRET ROOM IS OPEN AGAIN." What do they mean?"

"I think I've already heard from someone about the Secret Room at Hogwarts...." I drawled, "It's not from Bill, it's not..."

"And what is a squib?" Harry asked. I just giggled.

"Of course, it's not funny, but Filch... Squibs are those who were born into a family of wizards, but have been deprived of magical powers since birth. It's like the Muggles are the other way around. Squibs are very rare. More precisely, they are very carefully hidden because it is a disgrace for a pure-blooded family. And half-breeds remain living in the Muggle world with a Muggle parent. And if Filch is learning magic from the book Witchcraft for Beginners, then he's probably really a squib. Now it's clear why he hates the students so much.... I really feel sorry for him." And I smiled sympathetically. Mom's cousin is well settled in the Muggle world and doesn't even think about magic, but Filch constantly sees an example of what he himself is deprived of. Horror. Why didn't they put him in the Muggle world at all, because that's what all the old wizarding families do?

A clock struck somewhere.

"It's midnight," Harry hurried, "hurry up to the bedroom, otherwise Snape will come and cling to something again."

I took the sandwich I hadn't eaten before dinner out of my pocket and took half a bite at once. Damn, I'm hungry, so my stomach is grumbling.

"Here, take mine," Harry handed me his half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich.

"Thanks Harry, I don't feel like eating. Maybe persuade the twins to go to the kitchen to get food?"

* * *

For several days, there was nothing but talk about Mrs. Norris, and all because of Filch. He was hovering around the place where his cat had been bewitched, as if he was waiting for the culprit. I tried in vain to erase the writing on the wall with the help of "Mrs. Chistix's Universal Magic Stain Remover." He hid in the hallways, attacking schoolchildren, looking for a chance to punish them for "breathing too loudly" or "looking too happy." My sister wasn't herself after the accident with Filch's cat.

If it weren't for Percy the rat, who has been living with us for the eleventh year, we would have gotten a cat a long time ago.

"But you didn't know Mrs. Norris at all", I reassured her, "it's even better without her. Well, don't worry." Ginny's lips trembled at those words. She loves cats very much," I explained to my friends. But we already have a Skabbers living with us, so Mom won't let her have one of her own. This has never happened here. They'll catch this psycho and get him out of here, you can be sure of that. It would just be nice if he could put a Daze on Filch first.

Ginny suddenly turned pale.

"A joke! I hastened to add." Damn, he meant well, but it looks like he scared her even more.

Hermione was also unsettled. She had always loved to read, and now she was completely immersed in books. No matter how hard Harry and I tried to find out what was going on with her, it was all in vain. Her behavior only became clearer on Wednesday. After potions class, Snape left Harry to scrape test tube worms off the tables. In general, he likes to exploit Harry during work sessions or just detaining him after class, while simultaneously lecturing him on how to make potions or walking around his bully father. We went to the library, where we waited for him.

I was sitting at the far end of the library, measuring my magic history homework: Professor Beans had given me a meter-long essay on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards." It's strange, he usually talks about goblins. Have you decided to give something about wizards? So, we need to add something else.

"It's just a problem," I said, putting the tape measure away. The scroll immediately rolled up. "It's missing as much as twenty centimeters... And Hermione scribbled, and even in small handwriting, as much as one and a half meters."

"And where is she?" Harry asked, picked up the tape measure and unfolded his essay.

"There." I waved my hand at the long rows of bookshelves. "He's looking for a book. She probably decided to set a record by reading the entire library by Christmas."

Harry told me how Justin Finch-Fletchley shied away from him. I was trying to finish my essay at the time.

"So what!" I replied, writing the last few centimeters with a flourish. "Justin is a famous jerk. He even worships Lockhart...."

Hermione popped out from behind the shelves, clearly upset.

"The whole "Hogwarts Story" has been given out," she said indignantly and, sitting down with us, added: ""Sign up and wait two weeks"! I managed to leave her at home! And all because of the Lockhart books: I just couldn't fit in my suitcase...."

Hmm, is she disappointed with them? Well, if so.

"Why do you need the Hogwarts Story?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because that's why everyone needs it. Read the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What kind of Room is this?"

Harry asked. I had already stopped thinking about her, all my attention was occupied by the damn essay.

"There is this legend in the "History"", Hermione bit her lip, "but not in the other books. I don't remember her at all...."

He can promote a friend to her job, there are only 5 centimeters left. But there is no time to search for information anymore.

"Hermione, and Hermione," I looked at my watch in despair, "let me read your essay."

"And don't ask!" Hermione asked angrily. "What have you been doing for ten days?"

"I have only five centimeters left. What do you feel sorry for?"

The bell rang, and we ran to wizarding history; Hermione and I argued the whole way. It's a pity to let her write off 5 centimeters. I did the rest myself. Damn, Binns will lower the score.

It was the most depressing thing I've ever seen. The lectures were given by Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher in the whole school. It was boring, but it was fun-Mr. Beans came to class right from the blackboard. It was said that this ancient morel did not even notice how he died: he went to class one day, and the body remained sitting by the fireplace in the staff room.

Today, as always, Professor Beans opened his notes and let's creak like an unpainted cart; The class soon fell into a doze, and occasionally someone would wake up, write down a name or date, and go back to sleep. I didn't even try to record after him. Anyway, the Bagshot textbook is much more interesting, and the main thing is not only about goblin wars. No, I understand that you need to know the enemy, but you don't have to talk about them all the time. He had been creaking like this for half an hour, and suddenly something out of the ordinary happened: Hermione raised her hand.

Professor Beans looked up from his notebook in surprise, he had just reached the middle of a mournful lecture on the International Convention of Wizards of 1289.

"Yes, Miss... uh..."

"Granger, the professor. I wanted to ask you about the Chamber of Secrets", Hermione spoke clearly.

Dean Thomas, who was staring blankly out the window, came to his senses; Lavender Brown, who was lying on her desk with her arms crossed and her head resting on them, started up; Neville took his hands off the desk altogether.

Professor Beans blinked.

"My subject is the history of magic," He rasped hoarsely on one note. "I, Miss Granger, deal with facts, not myths and legends." Beans cleared his throat dryly, as if he had broken a stick of chalk, and continued: "In September of this year, the subcommittee of Magicians of Sardinia..."

He stumbled again as Hermione raised her hand again.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"But, sir, every legend is based on facts, right?"

Professor Binns was so stunned that it seemed to me that no one had ever asked him anything, either during his lifetime or after his death. Professor Binns was so stunned that it seemed to me that no one had ever asked him anything, either during his lifetime or after his death.