Ron-Weasly book 2

"And you forgot pimple Myrtle," Peeves hissed in her ear.

Myrtle, the crybaby, burst into inconsolable sobs and stormed out of the basement. Her assailant raced after her, pelting the ghost with rotten nuts and shouting loudly:

"Pimply! Pimply!"

"Poor thing," Hermione sighed sadly.

I wonder how she floods the toilet? Ghosts usually can't interact with the physical world. Through the crowd, we noticed an almost Headless Nick swimming towards us.

"How do you like it?" Nick asked kindly.

"Very much," the three of us lied together.

"Almost everyone invited came," Nick proudly remarked, "The Weeping Widow came from Kent itself... The time for my speech is approaching, I'll go warn the orchestra."

But before Nick could move, the orchestra suddenly stopped. The musicians and guests fell silent. The sound of a hunting horn was heard.

"It's them," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Ten ghostly horses, each with a headless rider, flew through the wall into the dungeon. The audience applauded loudly. I looked at them gloomily, yeah, and why the hell did Nick invite them? The audience applauded loudly. I looked at them gloomily, yeah, and why the hell did Nick invite them? Oh, yes, so that Harry could convince them to accept him into their ranks. Harry started clapping too, but stopped when he noticed Nick's sad face.

The horses galloped to the middle of the dance floor and stopped, rearing up and digging the floor with their hooves. The procession was led by a tall ghost holding a head under his arm, which blew a horn, puffing out his cheeks. He jumped off his horse and threw his bearded head high into the air, so that she could see everyone gathered. The guests laughed together. The headless ghost put his head in its natural place and quickly rushed towards the Almost Headless

"Nick. Nick!" he thundered. "How are you? Is your head still hanging by a thread?"

He laughed loudly and slapped the Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick," Nick greeted him with restraint.

"Oh, the living!" Sir Patrick exclaimed, spotting Harry, me, and Hermione. He jumped high in feigned surprise, so that his head flew off his shoulders again. The audience roared with laughter.

"It's a lot of fun," said Nearly Headless Nick gloomily.

"Stop it, Nick!" Sir Patrick's head shouted from the floor. "Nick is still upset that we didn't accept him into the Club! I can explain, take a look at it"...

"Yes, take a look!" Harry picked up, "Isn't it true that Nick has a menacing, intimidating look..."

"I looked at Nick and my friend skeptically. Yeah. I wouldn't have believed it."

"Ha!" the head lying on the floor exclaimed. "I'll bet my horse that Nick set you up."

"Please pay attention! I'd like to make a speech." Almost headless Nick approached the stage, flew up onto it and fell right into a beam of bluish-icy light.

"My deceased, grieved relatives and friends, ladies and gentlemen," He began. "It is with great regret that I want to inform you..."

However, no one listened to him. Sir Patrick and the members of the Bounty Hunters Club were playing hockey, and the guests, who were passionate about the game, forgot about Nick.

Nearly headless Nick tried in vain to get their attention back, but gave up when Sir Patrick's head floated past him to loud applause and gave him a sly wink. I felt terribly cold, and my empty stomach was making itself felt. Well, Hermione warned us about the food at lunch and we stocked up on sandwiches.

"Whatever you want, but I can't stay here any longer." I said, my teeth chattering from the cold.

The orchestra started playing again, and the ghosts rushed to the dance floor.

"Let's get out of here," Harry agreed.

We backed toward the door, nodding and smiling left and right. A minute later, we were hurrying up the stairs, lit by black candles.

"Maybe we can at least make it to dessert." I said hopefully, my stomach rumbling.

Harry stumbled and leaned against the cold wall to steady himself. He looked around and stared intently into the dimly lit corridor.

"Harry, what's the matter with you?" I started, but Harry cut me off.

"That voice again! Be quiet for a minute..."

I listened carefully. It seems quiet. Only the water is dripping somewhere.

"Do you hear that?" Harry asked.

Hermione and I froze, not taking our eyes off him.

Harry looked up and stared at the dark ceiling.

"Hurry up!" Harry shouted and ran up the steps leading to the hall.

Harry rushed to the marble staircase and raced up to the second floor, Hermione and I keeping pace with him.

"Harry, what are you..." I began, panting from running.

Harry strained his ears. "It's going to kill someone!"

He shouted and, ignoring our confused faces, rushed up again. He took the stairs three at a time.

"Harry, what's the matter?" I asked, panting. "I don't hear anything."...

On the third floor, Harry raced down the hallway again, turning left and right. Hermione and I kept up, breathing heavily. No need to run and generally pump your muscles, you need to. But the robe is not very suitable for this. I need to write home, let my mother send Bili's old things. He also ran outside.

Hermione suddenly screamed: something was shining ahead. We hurried there, looking around. Words were written in huge letters on the wall between two windows, glistening in the torchlight with red paint:

"THE SECRET ROOM IS OPEN AGAIN. TREMBLE, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR!"

I took a closer look. There was something gray hanging against the wall. And what is this... What's that hanging under the sign? I asked with a trembling voice. They approached cautiously. Harry slipped — a large puddle of water had spilled onto the floor from somewhere. Hermione and I caught him before he could fall. We looked at the object hanging under the ominous words, which seemed like a gloomy shadow from a distance, and were stunned — it was Mrs. Norris, the school caretaker's cat, and we immediately recognized her. The three of us rushed back, splashing water from nowhere. The petrified cat was suspended by its tail from a torch bracket. His bulging eyes were wide open. We stared at her for a few seconds, not moving, not saying a word. Okay, we need to get out of here before anyone notices us. I was the first to find my voice.

"Let's get out of here," I said.

"But we must try to do something... to help her somehow...." Harry began lamely.

Damn, he's playing the hero again. If we get caught here, everyone will think that we were joking.

"We'd better get out of here right now. Maybe someone will see us here!"

I tried to reach his mind. But it was too late. A multitude of voices could be heard from afar, which meant that the banquet was over. The footsteps of dozens of feet were approaching us from one side of the corridor. The cheers of cheerful, well-fed girls and boys could be heard. A moment later, we were surrounded by a festive crowd. But as soon as the first people who came up saw the hanging cat, silence immediately reigned in the corridor. Harry, Hermione, and I found ourselves alone in the center of the circle — no one dared approach us, even though there were curious people pressing in from behind, everyone wanted to know what had happened here.

"Tremble, enemies of the heir!" Someone shouted loudly. "The cat comes first — the next ones will be those with unclean blood in their veins!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He pushed his way through the crowd, his always cold eyes came alive, a blush played on his pale face. Looking at the frozen cat, he smiled wryly.

Chapter 7 The Secret Room is open again.

"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..."