Rumor had it that the new girl, Ranni, was Arthur's fiancée.
A girl who could match someone like Arthur definitely wouldn't be ordinary.
Professor McGonagall glanced at the two young women standing beside Arthur. The other professors noticed her gaze — and, one after another, began to entertain similar thoughts of their own.
Before their imaginations could drift too far, Dumbledore quickly steered the discussion back on track.
"So then, how did Mrs. Norris end up petrified?"
Filch immediately jabbed a finger at Harry. "Ask him! It was him! You saw the words on the wall — that's his doing!"
The accusation was clearly fueled by more than righteous anger.
Filch still bore a personal grudge against Harry — because Harry had once found a letter of his.
That letter, marked 'Quick-Spell Correspondence Course for Beginners', was a rejection notice from the Quick-Spell Company. Filch had applied, hoping to learn magic through the mail. But being a Squib, he couldn't cast spells at all. The company had politely declined his request.
Ever since, Filch had lived in constant fear that Harry knew his secret — and now, believing Harry had also turned his cat to stone, he was beside himself with rage.
Honestly, if Harry did have the power to petrify Mrs. Norris, wasn't Filch afraid of being next?
"It wasn't me! I swear!" Harry protested, eyes wide with indignation.
"Lies!" Filch spat.
"Wait a moment," came a calm, smooth voice. Snape stepped forward, hands folded. "Perhaps he merely happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Harry blinked in surprise — Snape defending him?
But the professor's next words swiftly dispelled any notion of kindness.
"Though, of course," Snape added softly, pacing closer, his black eyes glinting, "the circumstances are suspicious. I didn't see Potter at dinner."
Harry stiffened under Snape's looming shadow. Arthur caught the faint amusement flickering in Snape's eyes.
Ever since Snape had his own child, his feelings toward Harry had grown less tangled. But seeing that face — James Potter's face — still rubbed him the wrong way. So every now and then, he liked to give Harry a hard time.
Right now, watching Harry squirm nervously, Snape felt quite entertained.
"Ah, that might be my fault," Lockhart interjected grandly, tossing his golden hair. "I asked Harry to help me reply to fan mail!"
For once, Harry felt genuine gratitude toward the man. From this day forth, he decided he would never complain about answering Lockhart's letters again.
"Yes," Harry nodded quickly. "I left Professor Lockhart's office and met Arthur and the others on my way back. That's when we found Mrs. Norris."
He didn't mention the strange voice he'd heard — not with so many others around.
(Snape: 'Strange voice'? Potter, you're not talking about me, are you?)
"Enough," Dumbledore said firmly. "Until someone is proven guilty, they are innocent. Severus, please help Mr. Filch brew a potion using that mandrake root."
And just like that, the Headmaster closed the matter.
But Filch wasn't satisfied. "My cat was petrified! Someone must be punished!"
Arthur's patience, already thin, snapped. He'd just eaten — it was supposed to be time to relax somewhere comfortable and play a few rounds of his favorite game. He'd been standing here far too long.
"Mr. Filch!" Arthur's tone cut sharply through the noise. "The real culprit hasn't even been found yet. Who exactly do you plan to punish? Or do you simply not care about the truth, as long as someone suffers for it? If that's the case…"
He raised a hand — blue light flaring in his palm, the same as when he'd struck Filch earlier with Radiant Meteor.
"…then perhaps the one who deserves punishment is you. What do you think of that decision?"
The glowing sphere in Arthur's hand was much larger this time, a bright, swirling orb of condensed energy.
The professors, seeing no wand in his hand — nor even a spoken incantation — were collectively stunned.
Silent, wandless casting? At his age? None of them had ever seen the like.
And the spell itself — none of them recognized it. Could it be one he had invented himself?
A thousand-year genius, right in front of them — and they hadn't taken him as a student. The regret was palpable.
As for Filch's wellbeing?
Well… few of them truly liked Filch's endless complaining.
Judging from the spell's energy, it would probably only break a bone or two. Madam Pomfrey could handle that easily. No big deal.
The professors looked on in silent awe — while Filch, pale and trembling, turned desperate eyes to Dumbledore.
"A-Albus…!"
Dumbledore finally intervened. "That's enough. I believe Argus acted out of grief for his cat. Arthur, please put away your magic."
Hearing the Headmaster's calm voice, Arthur let the magic fade, the blue light dissolving from his palm.
He hadn't truly intended to hurt Filch — just scare him a bit.
Still, it was probably for the best. Blasting the man in front of half the staff might've cost him a few reputation points.
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