important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall
and Snape.
As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of
movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the
pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit
the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris
on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, and
Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool
of candlelight, watching.
The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from
Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon
spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor
McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape
loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar
expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And
Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.
"It was definitely a curse that killed her - probably the Transmogrifian
Torture - I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I
know the very countercurse that would have saved her . .....
Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs.
He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris,
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his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry
*141*
couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as
he felt for himself If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled
for sure.
Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and
tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened: She
continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.
". . . I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou,"
said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my
autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various
amulets, which cleared the matter up at once ......
The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in
agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair
net.
At last Dumbledore straightened up.
"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.
Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of
murders he had prevented.
"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris.
"But why's she all - all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said
Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say . . . ."
"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to
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!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw
what he wrote on the wall! He found - in my office - he knows I'm a
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I'm a -" Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he
finished.
"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably