The month following Lockhart's disastrous pixie lesson was perhaps the most interesting that Harry could remember in some time; no one knew what exactly Dumbledore had said to the Defense Professor, but whatever it had been seemed to completely destroy Lockhart's self-confidence, at least for a few days at any rate.
Upon hearing what had occurred, Sirius and Molly had both sent Howlers to Dumbledore demanding that Lockhart be immediately sacked for putting the children in potential danger; these Howlers were followed by dozens more as the rest of the students who had been in Lockhart's class at the time also wrote to their families, and their parents demanded Lockhart be held accountable for his actions. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was forced to inform the parents that there was no one else willing to take the Defense post due to the rumor that the position was cursed, and with no other options, Dumbledore was forced to keep the incompetent man on staff, loathe though he found the option. But that did not mean Lockhart would get away free and clear from the consequences of his actions, as Dumbledore profusely promised the angry parents. The Defense Professor was told in no unambiguous language that he would be placed on probation for the rest of the year, and if he slipped up again, even once, Dumbledore would fire him so fast that it would make Lockhart's head spin.
For a week after speaking privately with Dumbledore, Lockhart seemed depressed and agitated, hardly looking at anyone, and without his usual blinding smile, many began to agree that Lockhart actually wasn't that attractive; rather, he looked weak-chinned and feeble. New books were immediately ordered by Dumbledore himself about Dark creatures and how to PROPERLY defend oneself against said beasts, while all of Lockhart's books were swiftly returned by order of the Headmaster, and refunds to the student's families were immediately offered. Seemingly having lost his self-confidence in his own subject, Lockhart often ordered his classes to read quietly, snapping at anyone who spoke without permission. At the same time, he busied himself answering his fan mail while the class worked. Harry and his friends, however, seemed to have awoken a particular animosity from the Defense Professor, as every time Harry or one of his friends caught Lockhart's eye, the Professor appeared to glare with barely contained rage, as though he personally blamed them for his fall from grace. This depressing turn of events lasted for almost two weeks, when suddenly, to everyone's surprise, Lockhart seemed to bounce back; bursting into class one day with his customary beaming smile and jovial laugh, Lockhart proceeded to give a personal demonstration on how to defend oneself from the Dark creatures in the books, rather than have the students read quietly as had become the norm. To the surprise of Harry and his friends, Lockhart often decided to have one of them come forward and play the part of the creature so as to demonstrate to the rest of the class how to defend oneself properly.
Harry and the others almost immediately agreed that Lockhart was doing this as a form of embarrassing punishment for their part in Lockhart's castigation at the hands of Dumbledore, as well as the financial difficulties he was currently facing from having the entirety of Hogwarts returning his books and demanding refunds. Harry was unfortunately chosen the most out of his friends due to his Metamorphmagus abilities and had to suffer the indignity of pushing his shapeshifting abilities to their absolute limits by turning himself into a myriad of creatures for the class to ogle, as Lockhart had seemingly learned his lesson about bringing live creatures to class. Harry's friends had seemingly shared his outrage at being humiliated so. On more than one occasion, Harry, Ron, or Theo had to talk Daphne, Hermione, or Tracy down from storming into Lockhart's office and "Cursing the bugger," as they called it. To Harry's surprise, even Rhea seemed enraged at how Lockhart was treating Harry, which greatly confused the poor boy. After two weeks of this, Harry had finally had enough and spoke to Professor McGonagall about what Lockhart was making him do. Harry's Head-of-House had been outraged that Harry had not thought to come to her sooner, though that outrage had dissipated when Harry informed her that he "Didn't want to be a bother." After swiftly assuring the boy that he was not bothering her and that he was right to inform her of Lockhart's despicable actions, McGonagall had marched off to confront the man and give him a "Good hiding," as she called it. Harry hadn't been asked to transform again after that. Still, Lockhart's glaring had seemingly intensified ten-fold as Lockhart blamed the boy, yet again, for humiliating him so. The only good thing that had happened in the month since the pixie incident was that Luna seemed much more like her old self, thanks to Harry's warning to her bullies to leave her alone. However, Harry was beginning to wonder if some had ignored his warning as Luna began to look exhausted whenever Harry saw her lately. When asked about it, she would always respond that he needn't worry, as she was just having trouble sleeping was all, and that it would hopefully remedy itself.
As Halloween approached, Harry's thoughts turned toward the massive feast that all of Hogwarts had come to enjoy. There was even talk of a 'special event' that Dumbledore had planned for the night. However, what it could be was anyone's guess, as the aged Headmaster was being very tight-lipped about it.
XXXX
"Luna, are you sure you don't want to see Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked as they looked at her from across the breakfast table; the poor girl looked as though she hadn't had a good night's sleep in quite some time, judging by the redness of her eyes and the frazzled look of her hair.
"No, thank you, Harry," Luna replied as she picked at her breakfast; since her reconciliation with Harry, Luna had taken to eating every meal at the Gryffindor table, and though at first, most Gryffindors viewed her with suspicion, now they looked at her as one of their own.
"Luna," Harry replied softly, reaching over and placing his hand atop hers, "I'm worried about you. You barely eat; you always look like you're exhausted. You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?"
"I thank you for your concern, Harry," Luna replied harshly, surprising Harry, "But I am not a little girl who needs you to constantly look out for me! I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!"
The Gryffindor table went silent instantly at Luna's outburst, causing the girl to go red with embarrassment for a moment before she swiftly rose to her feet and stormed out of the Hall as Harry stared at her in shock; Luna and Harry had been friends for years, and in all that time never once had she ever reacted like that to him.
"Something is going on with her," Ron said as he looked up from his book; Hermione had gifted him a book on dyslexia that would supposedly help Ron with his condition, and he had taken to reading it with surprising gusto.
"Agreed," Hermione added as she stared after Luna, "But if she doesn't tell us what's wrong, there isn't much we can do."
"We could go to McGonagall," Harry replied,
"But Luna isn't a Gryffindor; she's a Ravenclaw!" Ron said, "Shouldn't we go to Flitwick instead?"
"That makes sense," Harry replied, turning to look at the Head Table, only to frown as he saw the diminutive Professor was absent, "Anyone know where he is?"
"Perhaps, he's getting ready for his class," Hermione supplied with a frown, "The first opportunity you get, though, you should inform him about Luna."
"I will," Harry said with determination, "Something is wrong with her, even if she says differently."
XXXX
Unfortunately, It seemed as though fate was determined to keep Harry and Flitwick apart, despite Harry's best efforts to try and speak with the small Professor; Harry was hoping to talk with the Charms Professor at lunch, only to groan with annoyance as he saw Flitwick's spot was once again empty.
Even worse, Luna seemed to have taken offense at Harry, for some reason, and sat alone at lunch at Ravenclaw table, far away from her fellow housemates; Harry couldn't help but stare as he took in his friend's ragged appearance, feeling helpless.
Harry had just risen to go and speak with her when the bell rang, causing the students to all rise and head out of the door to their next class; in the confusion, Harry, unfortunately, lost Luna in the crowd and was forced to head to Transfiguration with the matter still unresolved.
The rest of the day seemed to speed by at a snail's pace as everyone eagerly awaited the Halloween Feast, as well as whatever Dumbledore had planned for the main entertainment; even Harry found himself bouncing with anticipation as he waited for the last class of the day to end, his worries about Luna unfortunately forgotten for the moment.
When the final bell rang, there was a mad rush for the door, causing a temporary jam in the doorway that made Professor Sprout chuckle lightly as she watched the students try and shove their way through.
As fast as they could, Harry and the rest of Gryffindor raced back to their dorm to deposit their bags before heading to the Great Hall.
"I'll meet you all down there," Harry said happily as he pulled off his mud-covered robe, "I just want to change out of my robes."
"Alright, Harry!" Ron called back before racing out of the dorms after their dormmates, leaving Harry alone.
As quick as he could, Harry tore off his dirty robe, threw it to the floor, and put on a clean one before rushing out of the dorm and down the empty hallway to the Great Hall; he had almost made it when he suddenly rounded a corner and met with a fist to the face that knocked him to the floor with a painful 'oomph.'
Before he could figure out what had just happened, Harry was roughly hauled to his feet and dragged into a nearby empty classroom where Blaise Zabini was waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"Hello, Potter," Zabini said with a sneer, "We've been waiting for you to show up."
"It's Weasley!" Harry spat back as blood ran freely from his nose, "You would think you'd be able to remember my name, with as smart as you claim to be!"
Zabini turned crimson with anger at the insult, swiftly lunged forward, and delivered a hard punch to Harry's stomach that would have made the poor boy collapse if not for the two Slytherins holding him.
"You insulted my mother," Zabini hissed with rage, "Did you think I would just let it slide?"
Harry groaned in response, making Zabini sneer at him again before delivering another punch to Harry's face, which rocked the poor boy's head to the side and made him see stars momentarily.
"Did you really believe that a filthy half-blood like you could insult a pureblood and get away with it!" Zabini spat as he punched Harry twice more, sending Harry's head rocking back and forth, "It's time somebody reminded you what your place is, Potter!"
"You're a coward, Zabini," Harry hissed through his busted lips, "Only able to attack someone when you have help. If you're an example of what a pureblood is, then no wonder you're all so pathetic!"
Zabini turned crimson with rage and issued a roar before beginning to punch Harry anywhere he could reach while the two Slytherin holding Harry watched with cruel enjoyment; after what seemed like an eternity later, Harry was finally thrown to the ground where he struggled to breathe through what felt like a broken rib.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Potter," Zabini sneered as he delivered one final kick to Harry's back, "Hopefully, it will remind you of your place in our society!"
Without another word, Zabini strode out of the classroom, followed by his two cronies, leaving Harry to fall almost immediately into unconsciousness.
XXXX
"Where's Harry?" Hermione worriedly asked as the Great Hall filled up, yet there was no sight of her friend.
"I don't know," Ron replied, "He said he would follow us down once he finished changing,"
"Do you think something happened?" Hermione asked,
"Like what?" Ron scoffed, "I doubt Harry could find trouble just walking to the Great Hall."
Hermione raised an eyebrow and stared at Ron for a moment before answering with a single word,
"Troll."
"Good point," Ron replied with a slight tremor, "But this year is different! We don't have a homicidal Dark Lord as a Professor this year! This year we have an incompetent one, and I doubt Lockhart would attack Harry!"
Before Hermione could respond, Dumbledore approached the podium, and the Hall fell silent with anticipation.
"Good evening, students!" Dumbledore called out jovially, "And Happy Halloween to all!"
Dumbledore paused momentarily as a round of applause, and hollering echoed throughout the Great Hall; finally, after a reasonable amount of time, the noise began to die down, and Dumbledore continued speaking.
"I know that there has been a myriad of rumors about what I have planned for tonight, so I hope the festivities live up to your expectations!"
A hundred conversations began to start at once, making the Great Hall buzz with excitement at Dumbledore's words while he watched with a warm smile.
"So! Without further ado!" Dumbledore called out, instantly making the Hall go silent, "Let the festivities begin!"
The moment the last word left Dumbledore's lips, all the lights in the Great Hall went out, plunging the students and faculty into darkness; more than one voice screamed out in fear at the sudden loss of light, while a few others laughed in delight.
A moment later, dozens of ghosts flew through the walls, creating an eerie silver glow throughout the Great Hall so that the students and faculty could see again, but only just; a moment later, music began to echo throughout the Great Hall, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Boys and girls of every age,
wouldn't you like to see something strange?
Come with us, and you will see this is our town of Halloween!
Suddenly all the candles lit up at once as a hundred bats rained down upon the Hall, eliciting shrieks of fear and delight in equal measure.
This is Halloween! This is Halloween!
Pumpkins scream in the dead of night!
The bats suddenly transformed into a hundred flaming jack-o-lanterns that hung throughout the Hall, making all present gasp with awe and surprise as they all began to sing as one.
This is Halloween; everybody makes a scene!
Trick or Treat 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright!
Several dozen headless horsemen burst through the wall behind the head table and rode down the length of the Great Hall, screaming and shouting as they went, before disappearing through the entrance doors of the Hall.
It's our town, everybody screams!
In our town, on Halloween.
"This is wicked!" Ron cried out as a fat ghost dressed like a clown rolled past their table on a unicycle before tearing his own face off and disappearing a second later to thunderous applause.
"I can't believe that Harry is missing this!" Hermione added happily, "Where is he?"
"I don't know," Ron replied happily as illusionary monsters began appearing and disappearing all around them, causing screams of fright, "He's gonna be mad when he hears he missed this!"
Suddenly, all the lights in the Great Hall dimmed as a scarecrow astride a large straw horse appeared in the center of the Hall, making those present stare at it in anticipation of what it might do.
Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back
and scream like a banshee,
making you jump out of your skin!
This is Halloween, everybody screams!
Won't you please make way for a very special guy?
Our man Jack is the king of the pumpkin patch
; everyone hails the pumpkin king, now!
This is Halloween! This is Halloween!
The scarecrow suddenly burst into flames, eliciting cries of awe and shock as the scarecrow suddenly rose from the saddle of the horse and jumped from it, performing a front flip before landing gracefully and twirling in dance as the awestruck audience watched.
This is Halloween! This is Halloween!
In this town we call home,
everyone hails to the pumpkin song!
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, wheeee!
Upon the song's last note, the scarecrow exploded into a million pieces, leaving only a fiery jack-o-lantern that smiled menacingly for a moment before evaporating into smoke.
There was silence for only a minute as the lights in the Great Hall once again returned; a second later, the Great Hall sounded as though someone had detonated a bomb, as the entire Hall echoed with cheers, applause, and screams of delight.
Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet, a jovial smile stretched across his face as he allowed the students to celebrate what had occurred; once an appropriate amount of time had passed, Dumbledore raised his hand for silence.
"Now that the festivities have concluded," Dumbledore said warmly, "Let the feast begin!"
Instantly, the tables filled to bursting with every type of dish and treat imaginable, and the students happily began to dig into the food with gusto as a thousand conversations began about what had just happened.
XXXX
When Harry finally awoke, the first thing his mind registered was how much pain he was in; for a moment, all he could do was lie on the cold stone floor and hope for the pain to finally end. When, after several moments, he realized that it wasn't going to, Harry forced himself to his feet and slowly began to limp out of the classroom and down the Hall; Harry realized that there was no point in heading to the Hospital Wing as no doubt Madam Pomfrey and the rest of the staff would be at the Halloween Feast. Each step felt like agony, yet Harry knew he couldn't stop; he desperately needed medical attention, though perhaps Dumbledore would allow him to enjoy a little of the feast before he had Harry taken to the Hospital Wing; the idea made Harry chuckle for a moment before the pain made him stop.
He had just made it to the Entrance Hall when suddenly Harry stopped dead in his tracks,
"Rip…. Tear…. Kill…."
He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, and squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway. What was that? Was someone messing with him?
"Soo hungry…. For so long…"
"Hello?" Harry called out weakly as he tried to look around with his swollen eyes, "Is someone there?"
"Kill…. Time to kill…."
Harry's eyes shot open wide in alarm at hearing that, and he began to spin around wildly, looking for whoever the voice belonged to, yet finding no one.
"Time to kill…."
The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away—moving upward. Fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?
Though his body screamed in pain, Harry ran up the stairs, away from the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here; the babble of talk from the Halloween feast echoed out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, determined to stop the would-be killer before it followed through on its threat.
As he reached the first floor, Harry strained his ears, even as he gasped for air; distantly, from the floor above him, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice again,
"Blood…. I smell blood!"
"Oh no…." Harry whispered as his stomach lurched, "It's going to kill someone!"
Now desperate to stop whoever the voice belonged to, Harry ran up the next flight of stairs, taking them three steps at a time while trying to listen for the voice over the sound of his own pounding heart. As he hurtled around the second floor, Harry continued sprinting, his eyes wide despite the swelling as he tried to spot whoever the voice belonged to and stop them from killing someone. As Harry hurtled himself around the last corner of the second floor, he came to a deserted passageway and was forced to come to a halt as he desperately gasped for air; hands on his knees, Harry raised his head and saw to his bewilderment that something was shining on the wall ahead. As he approached slowly, squinting through the darkness, foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
As Harry stared in shock at the words, he realized something was hanging underneath the words, tied to one of the torches.
As he edged nearer, Harry almost slipped; there was a large puddle of water on the floor; barely managing to keep his balance, Harry righted himself and inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. Harry realized what it was at once and leaped backward in horror with a splash.
Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging from the torch bracket by her tail. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring; for a few seconds, Harry didn't move, too horrified by what he was seeing. Suddenly, Harry's reason seemed to come back to him as his instincts screamed at him to run, that this was not somewhere he wanted to be caught, especially as it would look to anyone who came upon him that Harry had killed Mrs. Norris.
But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told him that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where he stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; the next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.
The chatter, the bustle, and the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry stood alone in the middle of the corridor as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Colin Creevy raised his camera to take a picture, only to stop when Oliver Wood forced it back down with his hand. Hermione and Ron stared in horror at the seemingly dead cat before finally turning their attention to Harry. Seeing his injuries, Hermione rushed forward, followed quickly by Ron; it was a good thing, too, as at that moment, the last of Harry's strength left him, and he collapsed into their arms. Rhea took a step forward as she saw Harry collapse, a peculiar expression on her face, before calmly stepping back next to her brother, who was also looking at Harry with worry.
Then someone shouted through the quiet,
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
It was Blaise Zabini. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.
"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Attracted no doubt by Zabini's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror,
"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.
And his popping eyes fell on Harry,
"You!" he screeched, "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"
"Argus!"
Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by several other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter."
"Albus!" Madam Pomfrey cried in shock, "Look at the poor boy! He needs medical attention, not an interrogation!"
"Unfortunately, I need answers, Poppy," Dumbledore replied at once before looking back at Harry in a softer manner, "It won't take long, Harry, I assure you."
Unable to speak, Harry simply nodded and rose shakily to his feet with the help of Hermione and Ron.
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly,
"My office is nearest, Headmaster, just upstairs, please feel free…."
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore stiffly
The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Looking excited and important, Lockhart hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape while Hermione and Ron helped a limping Harry.
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 laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Ron and Hermione exchanged tense looks and helped Harry into a nearby chair before sinking into chairs themselves outside the pool of candlelight, watching. Madam Pomfrey descended on Harry immediately and began to check him over with a worried eye as Harry tried not to pass out from the pain again.
The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He looked 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 Transmogrified Torture; I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there; I know the very counter curse 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, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry 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 surely be expelled, injuries or not.
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 Ouagadougou," 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 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! And besides, look at his injuries! What happened, Potter?! Mrs. Norris put up a fight when you tried to kill her?!"
"His name is Weasley!" Ron spat back, coming to his brother's defense, "He's made that abundantly clear, you no account hack!"
"Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall retorted, "That will be enough! Sit down and be silent!"
Grumbling angrily to himself, Ron crossed his arms as Hermione placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Well, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as he zeroed in on the boy currently at the mercy of Madam Pomfrey's inspection.
"I was attacked, professor," Harry gasped out, "I didn't see who it was. They pulled me into an abandoned classroom and began to beat me quite badly; I don't know how long the beating lasted, but I think I passed out before it was over because I woke up alone."
Dumbledore paled with rage at Harry's account of what happened to him, and he wasn't the only one. McGonagall, Snape, and Ron looked livid with anger while Hermione's hand went to her mouth in horror; Harry hoped that the Professors wouldn't be able to tell that Harry was lying about who did it. Harry would have vengeance against Zabini, but he didn't want anyone getting to the Slytherin before Harry did. Oh yes, Zabini would pay for what he did to him; Harry would make sure of that!
"What happened next, my boy?" Dumbledore asked softly, causing Harry to wince as he drew a breath to keep going.
I was heading toward the Great Hall because I figured that was where Madam Pomfrey would be when I heard a scream coming from the second floor," Harry lied, not wanting to tell the listeners that he heard an invisible killer for fear that they would think him mad, "Since I was already there, I figured I might as well see what happened, in case someone was hurt."
"You are the one who is hurt, you foolish boy!" McGonagall retorted angrily, "What exactly did you expect to do in your condition?!"
"I don't know, Professor," Harry mumbled as he looked down at his feet, "But I couldn't just do nothing…."
"That was very noble of you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said proudly, "But you are in no condition to be running after potential dangers! You should have gone for a teacher!"
"I'm sorry…." Harry muttered softly, hoping his act would fool the Professors, "I guess I just wasn't thinking straight,"
"Certainly not!" McGonagall agreed, nodding her head at the boy.
Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Argus," he said firmly, causing Mr. Filch to turn crimson with anger,
"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping, "I want to see some punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently, "Professor Sprout recently
managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris,"
"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in, "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"
"Excuse me," said Snape icily, "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."
There was a very awkward pause as Snape and Lockhart glared at one another; a moment later, Madam Pomfrey rose to her feet and coughed loudly, drawing everyone's attention,
"If you have no further questions, Headmaster, I really must get Mr. Weasley to the Hospital Wing. His injuries are quite severe!"
"Of course, Poppy," Dumbledore replied at once, "Off you go, then."
Trying to be as gentle as she could, Madam Pomfrey slowly helped Harry to his feet before having him wrap one of his arms around her shoulders to support himself as she helped him limp out of the classroom, followed quickly by Hermione and Ron.