Hearing Sherlock's words, all the students in the corridor followed his gaze.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and other professors had appeared among the crowd at some point.
This surprised most people greatly. When had these professors arrived?
A bright gleam flashed across Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles.
He had been here with the staff for a while.
But at that time, everyone's attention was focused on Sherlock examining the scene, so not many people noticed them.
Even those few students who did spot them had been asked by him to remain silent.
He hadn't expected that Sherlock, who was completely absorbed in examining the crime scene, had noticed them early on.
Hearing Sherlock speak, Dumbledore was at the wall with the writing almost instantly.
His gaze swept over the line of text, then he removed Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.
"Well done, Sherlock... very well done."
Dumbledore said softly, then looked at Filch. "Come with me, Argus."
Having already received news from Sherlock that Mrs. Norris wasn't dead, Filch was in a much more stable mental state than before.
So, when he heard Dumbledore, he nodded gently.
Dumbledore looked at several other key figures.
"And you too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger."
Dumbledore's words didn't surprise anyone.
As parties involved at the crime scene, Harry, Hermione, and Neville naturally needed to follow Dumbledore to explain the situation.
As for Sherlock, that went without saying.
In just this short time, he had already taken control of the entire situation.
Even changing venues to continue questioning had been his suggestion.
"Then..."
Dumbledore's gaze swept over the professors and finally settled on Professor McGonagall. "Minerva..."
Since becoming head of Gryffindor House, McGonagall had been working in a small study next to the second-floor corridor of Hogwarts Castle, which was the closest office to here.
Plus, these students were all Gryffindors, so Dumbledore instinctively wanted to go there.
However, before he could finish, Professor Lockhart hurried forward.
"My office is closest to here, Headmaster—just upstairs—you can—"
Dumbledore paused slightly, then remembered that the Defense Against the Dark Arts office was indeed on the third floor.
He nodded slightly. "Thank you, Gilderoy."
Hearing Dumbledore's words, the silent crowd immediately parted to let them through.
Professor Lockhart was very excited, looking quite pleased with himself as he hurried after Dumbledore.
McGonagall briefly exchanged words with the other professors, and Snape followed as well.
"Last Halloween was the same, and now this year again..."
Professor Sprout watched the prefects organize students returning to their dormitories and frowned.
She was naturally referring to the troll incident from Halloween the previous term.
Professor Flitwick also shook his head. "After that person left, Hogwarts had finally been peaceful for so many years. Could it be..."
At this point, both their gazes turned toward the writing on the wall, then they looked away and met each other's eyes.
"The Chamber..."
For Harry and Hermione, this was their second time in Lockhart's office.
Especially for Harry—nearly four hours of letter-writing had left him with a deep impression of this office.
But this time, when everyone entered Lockhart's dim office, the walls suddenly erupted in commotion.
Sherlock's gaze swept across the office and saw several photos of Lockhart frantically hiding, still wearing hair curlers.
The real Lockhart waved his wand and lit the candles on the desk.
Harry, Hermione, and Neville nervously exchanged glances, then quickly sat in chairs away from the candlelight, watching the important figures present with bright eyes.
During this time, the three kept glancing toward Sherlock.
Unfortunately, Sherlock seemed to be examining the office and didn't notice them.
This made the three somewhat disappointedly look away.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore placed Mrs. Norris on the polished desktop and began examining her carefully.
His crooked long nose almost touched the cat's fur surface.
His bright eyes peered through his half-moon spectacles, studying it carefully, while his long fingers gently poked here and prodded there.
He examined very thoroughly, no less carefully than Sherlock had just done.
Professor McGonagall bent over, squinting as she looked closely, her face almost touching the cat.
Professor Snape didn't come forward.
He stood behind Dumbledore and McGonagall, half his body hidden in shadow, looking sinister.
Sherlock noticed that Snape's expression was very strange.
It gave the impression of someone desperately restraining himself.
Filch had collapsed into a chair beside the desk since entering the office.
Although Sherlock had already said Mrs. Norris wasn't dead, seeing Dumbledore like this made him nervous again.
He covered his face with his hands, not daring to look at Mrs. Norris, afraid Dumbledore might say.
"There's no hope. Give up treatment!"
As for the office's owner, Lockhart was pacing around Dumbledore and McGonagall, constantly offering suggestions.
"I remember something very similar happened in Wagadugu."
Lockhart chattered on, "There was a series of attacks then. I have detailed records in my autobiography.
Fortunately, I provided the residents there with various protective charms, which solved the problem immediately."
As he spoke, the Lockharts in the wall photos all nodded in agreement.
One even forgot to remove his hairnet.
Noticing his performance, Sherlock raised an eyebrow slightly.
Just then, Dumbledore suddenly looked up at Filch, who was covering his eyes.
"Argus, Mrs. Norris is not dead."
"Really, Headmaster!"
Filch jumped up, looking at Dumbledore with joy.
"As Sherlock said, her vital signs still exist. As for her current appearance, it's because she's been petrified."
Dumbledore said, his gaze sweeping over the three students. "But I'm not clear on exactly how this happened."
"Ask him!"
Filch shrieked, turning his tear-stained, blotchy face toward Harry.
Dumbledore frowned and didn't immediately question Harry, but turned to someone else.
"Sherlock, what do you think?"
With Dumbledore's words, everyone turned to look at Sherlock.
Gilderoy Lockhart showed a particularly surprised expression.
He seemed not to have expected Dumbledore to seek the opinion of a second-year student.
Sherlock said calmly and definitively.
"They didn't do this—to be precise, they couldn't have done this."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Harry, Hermione, and Neville all breathed sighs of relief.
How to put it—although he was also a second-year student like them, whenever Sherlock spoke, it gave the three a feeling that the situation was settled.
Dumbledore also nodded. "Indeed, second-year students couldn't do this. It would require very advanced Dark Magic."
"Even so, this must be related to them!"
Filch spat, his fat, sagging face turning purple-red.
Hearing this, Sherlock looked at him.
Being stared at by those gray eyes, Filch suddenly shrank back.
"I mean... it might be related to them. Otherwise, why would they be there?"
While others were surprised by Sherlock's apparent influence over Filch, a sinister voice spoke.
"Heh, is our great detective about to perform again?"
It had to be said that in terms of sarcasm, Professor Snape's talent was exceptional, matching his potion-making skills.
However, Sherlock was completely unaffected. He glanced at Snape and said calmly.
"Not a performance, just reasonable deduction."
"More speculation. Then why don't you explain to us why your 'three little friends' happened to be there at that time?
Everyone else was at the Halloween feast. Why were only they in that corridor?"
He deliberately emphasized "three little friends," as if implying Sherlock wanted to cover for Harry and the others.
Sherlock remained unmoved.
"Professor Snape, I can indeed explain this point.
A week ago, my friends had already been invited by the Gryffindor ghost to attend his death-day party."
He not only didn't avoid Snape's reference to "three little friends" but openly acknowledged it.
Harry and Hermione began eagerly explaining they had attended the death-day party.
"That's right, exactly!"
"There were hundreds of ghosts there—they can testify we were there—"
"Then here's the question."
But before they could finish, Snape interrupted them.
"What about after that? Why didn't you come to the feast?"
Snape's black eyes glittered in the candlelight.
"After this so-called death-day party, why did you go to the upstairs corridor?"
Hermione and Neville both looked at Harry.
Seeing this, Sherlock's eyes flashed, and he immediately had a suspicion.
"Because..."
Harry carefully glanced at Sherlock from the corner of his eye.
There was naturally a reason for going to the third-floor corridor.
The problem was that even if he stated this reason, it definitely wouldn't hold up.
So, he could only find another excuse.
"Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed early."
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