The Wand Core

Chapter Eight In Which Filch Literally Flips Out and Hermione Breaks Rules

I took a step forward, then a step back. 

"What's that thing... hanging underneath?" asked Ron, his voice at least an octave higher than normal. 

Harry nearly slipped on a puddle of water as he approached the dark shadow underneath  torch. I swore when I saw what it actually was.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, was hanging by her tail off of one of the torches. From what I could tell, she was as dead as a doornail. 

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

"Shouldn't we try and help?" asked Harry.

"Trust me," I said. "We do not want to be here."

A small rumble stopped us in our tracks as the people who had actually eaten food entered the corridor from both ends. They halted in their tracks when they saw the scene. The people in the back were peering over the heads of the people in front of them as they slowly inched forwards. 

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" someone shouted. I whirled around to see none other than Draco Malfoy. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" He grinned at the sight of the dead cat.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" My blood turned to ice when I saw none other than Argus Filch pushed his way through the crowd. He took one look at his beloved cat and stumbled back, face contorted in horror and repulsion. His popping eyes fell on Harry. 

"You!" he shrieked. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Argus!"

All at once, hundreds of feet shifted as Dumbledore came onto the scene. He swept past everyone and plucked Mrs. Norris from the torch. 

"Come with me, Argus," he said. "You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Ollivander."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster. Just upstairs. Feel free --"

"Thank you, Gilderoy."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I followed behind Dumbledore, stuck between the headmaster, Lockhart, McGonagall, and Snape. We all made our way up to Lockhart's office to see a flurry of motion as his portraits scurried out of his frames. The real Lockhart lit the candles with a wave of his wand, the most stupid grin on his face. I tried to shrink back into the shadows, but Snape had taken that spot, and McGonagall looked dead on her feet. Dumbledore set the cat on the desk with a bang, and started poking it. 

Lockhart started babbling about what may or may not have killed the cat, trying to speak over Filch's dry sobs. The caretaker sat in the desk, not even daring to look at his cat. 

"She's not dead, Argus," Dumbledore said softly. Lockhart stopped mid sentence. 

"Not dead?" Filch croaked, wiping tears from his eyes. "But why is she all -- all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified. But how, I cannot say..."

"Ask him!" Filch pointed his shaking finger at Harry. 

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced --"

"He did it, he did it!" spat Filch, his face turning a shade of purple I didn't think possible. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found... He knows I'm a... I'm a... I'm a Squib!"

Ron and I both snorted, the sound covered by Harry's protesting. "I never touched Mrs. Norris! And I don't even know what a Squib is."