The First Attack
"Enemies of the Heir... beware," Draco said, stepping forward with an excited grin. "The filthy Mudbloods are next," he added with even more contempt than usual, perhaps emboldened by the fact that all the other students were watching, or perhaps hoping Harry and Percy would attack him with hundreds of witnesses around.
They didn't give him the satisfaction.
Or rather, Harry stopped Percy before he could.
"What's going on here? Out of my way!" Argus Filch shouted as he shoved his way to the front.
But before he even reached the front of the crowd, his eyes widened at the blood-red writing covering the wall. His face twisted with fury in an instant.
Then his gaze landed on the hanging cat.
He froze.
His face turned deathly pale, and his mouth immediately began to tremble.
"Mrs. Norris..." he whispered as he stumbled closer, his hands shaking as they flew to his head. "My cat... my cat!" he cried, his voice breaking, unable to tear his eyes away from her.
Then his furious gaze swept across everyone present before stopping on Harry.
"You..." he nearly roared. "You killed her... I'll kill you!"
Before Filch could take a single step, a thunderous voice stopped him.
"Argus!"
Dumbledore had arrived, followed by the rest of the professors.
"Argus, don't..."
But he stopped the moment he saw what was written on the wall, his expression growing noticeably more serious.
"Please, everyone return to your dormitories... except you four," he said, pointing at Harry, Percy, Tyson, and Hermione.
"Headmaster, they killed my cat!" Filch cried, tears filling his eyes.
"Calm yourself, Argus. Mrs. Norris isn't dead," the Headmaster said gently as he looked closely at the hanging cat, seeming to understand her condition with nothing more than a glance. "She's been petrified."
"Oh, absolutely. And very well done, too. I couldn't have done it better myself," the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor suddenly chimed in as he walked over and poked Mrs. Norris with his wand, earning a growl from Filch and attentive looks from the other professors. "Though I don't believe the Petrification Curse is taught to second-years, is it? Actually... it's not taught in any year. It's highly advanced Dark Magic, after all."
For a moment, Harry and Percy were genuinely surprised.
It almost sounded as though he were defending them.
Even professors like McGonagall and Snape couldn't help giving the Masked Hero another look, as if surprised he actually knew something.
"I agree. It's highly unlikely that a second-year student could perform Dark Magic of this level," Dumbledore said.
For just a moment, though, Harry felt those bright eyes behind the half-moon glasses settle on him... and then on the magical bag he never left behind because it held his magical tome.
"No! I'm absolutely certain it was him!" Filch shouted, his face turning bright red. "He wrote that on the wall! He's doing this because he found out in my office... he knows I'm... I'm a... I'm a Squib!" Filch finally spat out, visibly struggling just to say the word.
"Enough!" Percy snapped, stepping forward until he stood in front of Harry. "Mrs. Norris was already like that when we got here! We didn't touch anything!"
Harry nodded immediately.
"I never touched Mrs. Norris," Harry finally said firmly, though he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable with every professor staring at him. "Why would I do something like that?"
Before Filch could interrupt, Percy spoke again.
"And besides, if we'd wanted to do it, we would've already run away!" Percy blurted out without thinking. "We know plenty of ways to leave the castle without anyone seeing us."
The entire corridor fell into an awkward silence.
Harry closed his eyes for a second.
"...Yeah. You're really not helping, Percy," he said as he grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him back.
"What? That's a perfectly valid argument!" Percy protested.
Hermione shot him a stern look, while Tyson nodded enthusiastically, completely convinced Percy had just made the best argument of the night.
"If I may offer my opinion, Headmaster," Snape's voice rang out.
For a moment, both Percy and Harry tensed, already expecting the Head of Slytherin to say nothing that would benefit them.
Instead, they were surprised.
"Perhaps this... unusual group simply happened to be in the wrong place at the worst possible time," he said, though there was still the faintest trace of disdain on his lips.
Harry and Percy exchanged a surprised glance.
For a second, they'd actually thought Snape was defending them...
But they knew the professor far too well to relax.
"However..." Snape continued, shattering that hope just as quickly. "There are still several suspicious circumstances here. For one, I don't recall seeing Potter at the Halloween feast," he said, locking eyes with Harry, who didn't look away.
"Nick... uh, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryffindor's ghost, invited us to his Deathday Party. There are hundreds of ghosts who can confirm we were there," Harry replied clearly, completely unafraid of the Potions professor, whose black eyes seemed to shine in the candlelight the longer he stared.
"Then why didn't you join the feast afterward?" Snape asked immediately. "Because I'm quite certain food for the dead isn't particularly appetizing to the living," he added, a triumphant smile creeping across his stern face.
"We weren't hungry," Percy answered with a frown.
GRRRRRRRRRR...
Tyson's stomach growled so loudly the sound echoed down the corridor, almost comically out of place in the middle of such a tense moment.
Tyson lowered his head and looked at his own stomach.
"Oh... sorry," Tyson said sheepishly.
But their excuse had completely fallen apart by then, while Percy gestured at Tyson that he wasn't helping... even though Percy himself wasn't helping either.
The unpleasant smile on Snape's face widened.
"I have the impression, Headmaster, that Potter and his friends are not being entirely truthful. If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Potter possesses a rather unusual spellbook. Who's to say he himself couldn't cast such a curse? I believe it would be wise to investigate it thoroughly and ensure whatever he is learning from it poses no danger to the school."
Harry frowned as soon as he heard that.
Not because they might find something—after all, Aunt Mor had told him that the spells appearing in the tome were the ones its owner needed to learn, meaning if anyone else picked it up, the pages would be completely blank.
The real problem was something else.
Harry wasn't about to hand over his magical tome.
It was one of his most treasured possessions.
Just as Percy's sword was to him.
"Frankly, Severus," McGonagall said coldly, "you are suggesting something extremely delicate. Many magical families preserve grimoires containing spells, research, and knowledge passed down through generations. That information is private and belongs to those families. Hogwarts has neither the authority to confiscate such property nor inspect it without fully justified cause."
"Or do you also intend to search every Slytherin student's private library? I'm sure quite a few of their families would have something to say about that."
Dumbledore stared intently at Harry.
For a brief moment, Harry met the Headmaster's gaze, and it felt as though he were being examined by X-rays.
Dumbledore remained silent for several seconds, allowing both professors' arguments to settle before finally turning back to Severus.
"He is innocent until proven guilty, Severus," the Headmaster said.
Hearing that, Snape merely twisted his mouth into an annoyed scowl before stepping back into place.
"They petrified my cat!" Filch roared immediately. "I want them to pay for it!"
"We can cure her, Argus," Professor Dumbledore said patiently. "Once Professor Sprout's mandrakes have matured, we'll be able to brew a restorative potion and bring her back," he added.
Filch visibly calmed down.
Meanwhile, the Headmaster turned toward Harry's group.
"You may leave now, but I advise all of you to be extremely cautious," Dumbledore said, finishing with one last look at the words written on the wall.
...
No one spoke for several minutes.
The group walked through Hogwarts' corridors in silence until Percy opened the door to an old, empty classroom. They quickly stepped inside, and Tyson shut the door behind them.
Only after making sure they were completely alone did Harry finally let out the breath he'd been holding ever since they found Mrs. Norris.
"Why didn't you tell them about the voice you heard?" Hermione finally asked, voicing the question she'd been holding back.
"Do you think that would've helped?" Harry asked with a bitter smile. "I'm pretty sure that even in the magical world, saying you hear a voice that no one else can hear isn't exactly the best way to convince people you're innocent."
"What if it was Medusa?" Percy said, genuinely thinking it through. "I know we killed her and her head is in the Veil now, but remember what Annabeth said? Some creatures can return from Tartarus. Or maybe her sisters. Didn't she have two sisters who were turned into snake women? What if they came back to get revenge on us for killing her?"
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "According to the myths, only Medusa could petrify living beings with her gaze. Besides, if it had been her, Mrs. Norris would've been turned into a stone statue. Though... maybe we should ask Annabeth. Has she contacted you?" Harry asked, looking at Percy.
Percy immediately grimaced and shook his head, clearly annoyed.
"No. Even if she can't call, she should still be able to use the Iris Message network," he said with a frown.
"Maybe she doesn't have any drachmas. You need one to use an Iris Message," Tyson said at once when he noticed Percy's expression, perhaps trying to cheer him up.
"Maybe we should do some research and see what creatures are capable of petrifying people, both from the magical world and from mythology," Hermione suggested immediately.
"I think that's a good idea," Harry agreed with a nod.
"So... are we ruling out the snake women?" Percy asked.
"Mm... not completely," Harry replied after thinking for a moment. "But... the Chamber of Secrets. What is the Chamber of Secrets?"
The silence that followed was more unsettling than any answer they could have imagined.