Gilderoy Lockhart's office was decorated in a profoundly abstract, utterly absurd manner.
The walls were densely plastered with gold-framed photographs of himself. There were pictures of him smiling radiantly, posing in deep thought, hanging upside down, and even a few where he was bizarrely dressed in women's clothing.
However, the current atmosphere in the room sharply contrasted with the flamboyant decor. Everyone except Lockhart wore grave, heavy expressions.
Dumbledore had placed Mrs. Norris on the polished desk. He was waving his wand, casting a series of complex counter-curses one after another. Maurise stood quietly to the side, cradling Tin in his arms, observing the process intently.
He noted that the Headmaster had already attempted at least four or five distinct, highly advanced spells, yet none had the slightest effect on the petrified feline.
Was it truly this intractable? This was Albus Dumbledore, after all.
Harry subtly sidled up next to Maurise and dropped his voice to a frantic whisper. "Maurise... we really did not do anything."
"I know," Maurise replied with a slight nod. "I never suspected you for a second."
This was glaringly obvious. A spell of this magnitude was entirely beyond the capabilities of any ordinary student. His cat had simply been caught in the crossfire of whatever sinister plot was currently brewing.
This was Hogwarts, the center of the Harry Potter universe. The idea of experiencing a peaceful, uneventful school year was nothing short of a delusional fantasy. Something disastrous was bound to happen every single year.
But that was entirely beside the point right now. The culprit had to pay a very steep price.
Hearing Maurise's unwavering belief in them, Harry let out a long, shuddering breath. His tense shoulders finally relaxed a fraction. At the very least, Maurise trusted him.
Watching Dumbledore cast spell after spell over the rigid body of Mrs. Norris in grim silence finally broke Filch.
"My cat," he choked out, tears brimming in his bulging eyes. "What exactly has happened to her?"
Dumbledore straightened his back and spoke with gentle gravity. "She is not dead, Argus. She has been petrified."
"Exactly as I deduced!" Lockhart puffed out his chest proudly from the sidelines. Unfortunately for him, aside from his own portraits on the walls, absolutely no one paid him any attention.
"Petrified?" Filch furiously scrubbed his face with his sleeve. He spun around, fixing Harry with a look of pure, venomous hatred. "It was you. You did this!"
"A second-year student is entirely incapable of performing such a feat," Dumbledore said gently, shaking his head. "Calm yourself, Argus. This appears to be the work of exceptionally advanced Dark Magic."
Filch, however, refused to listen. His face flushed a dark, ugly purple as he jabbed a trembling finger at Harry. "It was him! I know it was him!"
He had completely cemented Harry as the culprit in his mind.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione swiftly exchanged bewildered glances. Honestly, Hermione was the only one among them who had even a passing familiarity with the Full Body-Bind Curse. But this was a petrification so potent that it left even Dumbledore momentarily baffled!
Had Filch completely lost his mind? Or did the caretaker genuinely believe their magical prowess somehow eclipsed the Headmaster's?
"We have absolutely no reason to do something like this," Harry defended himself, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Look at Maurise's cat. Tin was petrified too, and Maurise is our friend."
"Friend?" Filch shrieked mockingly, his bloodshot eyes bulging wildly. "Who knows what goes on in the heads of you vicious little brats?"
At that moment, Snape, who had been observing the chaos in icy silence, finally spoke. His voice was cold and sharp. "Headmaster, if I may interject. Potter and his friends were notably absent from the Halloween feast tonight."
"We attended Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party!" Hermione hastily explained, her voice tight with panic. "Hundreds of ghosts saw us there. They can all vouch for us!"
"A Deathday Party?" Snape sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "I imagine that was a truly delightful gathering."
Harry and his friends remained miserably silent.
Other than the fact that the guests were entirely transparent, the food was literally rotting, the dungeon was cold enough to make their teeth chatter, and the musical entertainment sounded like fingernails scraping across chalkboards, there was absolutely nothing to complain about.
They all mentally sighed. It was a tragedy of epic proportions. Why on earth had they agreed to attend a ghost's party? They had practically invited disaster. And now, they were neck-deep in this ridiculous mess.
"And why, pray tell, did you proceed to an upstairs corridor after this spectral gathering instead of joining the feast?" Snape pressed, stepping forward like a predator cornering its prey.
"We were exhausted. We just wanted to go back to the common room and sleep," Harry answered stiffly.
Snape crossed his arms, turning his dark, gleaming eyes toward Dumbledore. "Potter is clearly hiding something. Perhaps we should strip him of his privileges, or assign a few weeks of detention until he is properly motivated to tell the truth."
"Severus!" Professor McGonagall cut in sharply, her voice ringing with authority. "There is absolutely no evidence that Potter has done anything wrong. We do not arbitrarily punish innocent students."
Dumbledore glanced at Snape, his tone mild but laced with absolute finality. "Minerva is entirely correct. Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."
Snape let out a derisive scoff. He shifted his gaze to the boy holding the undead cat. "Black. Perhaps you should seriously reconsider your choice of company."
Maurise did not bother responding. His mind was entirely occupied with a far more pressing issue. How was he going to cure Tin? Standard counter-curses were useless. The spells in the Book of the Magi were not designed for healing. As for potions, he could not immediately think of a formula potent enough to reverse this.
"My cat has been petrified!" Filch roared, spittle flying from his lips. "Are we simply going to let this go?!"
"Do not despair, Argus. We will catch the true culprit," Dumbledore said soothingly. "And both your cat and Mr. Black's companion will be cured."
"I can certainly handle that!" Lockhart interrupted, flashing his gleaming teeth at the most inappropriate time imaginable. "I have cured countless poor creatures of bizarre ailments. A simple petrification is child's play for me!"
Dumbledore carried on as if Lockhart had not spoken at all. "Professor Sprout recently acquired a fresh batch of Mandrakes. The moment they reach maturity, Professor Snape will brew a restorative draught to revive them."
Hearing this did not comfort Maurise in the slightest.
The Mandrakes were still seedlings. It would take the better part of a year for them to fully mature. Furthermore, a restorative potion designed for living creatures might have absolutely no effect on an undead construct like Tin.
He was going to have to find his own solution.
"That will be all for now. Harry, Ron, Hermione, you may return to your dormitories," Dumbledore instructed.
The trio looked as though they had just been granted a royal pardon. They practically sprinted out of the suffocating office.
A heavy silence fell over the remaining occupants.
"Maurise," Dumbledore suddenly addressed the young Ravenclaw, his piercing blue eyes watching him closely. "You seem remarkably calm given the circumstances."
It was a fair observation. While Filch was practically drowning in a puddle of his own hysterical tears over his pet, Maurise had remained eerily quiet and composed. The stark contrast was so obvious that even the weeping caretaker paused to shoot Maurise a bewildered glare.
"In truth, Professor, I am absolutely furious," Maurise stated softly, his silver eyes flashing with cold, dangerous intent. "If the culprit were standing in front of me right now, I cannot guarantee I would not strike them down."
Dumbledore studied the boy intently for a long moment. "The culprit will be caught," he promised firmly.
"I believe you, Professor," Maurise replied.
...
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