The one who left the writing and petrified Mrs. Norris cleaned up all traces of himself.

Not even a suspicious smell of magic was left.

The Chamber of Secrets...

The word weighed heavily on his heart.

Filch pushed through the crowd and squeezed in. When he saw the hung cat, the magical effect seemed to be contagious. He also froze and stared at it in a daze.

The chattering sounds in the crowd turned into waves of harsh, sharp, and dim tinnitus.

After a while, he staggered forward a step, but all the strength in his body had been drained.

His left foot tripped over his right foot, getting tangled, and with a snap, he fell heavily into the water. He didn't struggle, but half raised his head in a daze, staring at his cat's vertical pupils that still had some fear in them.

"Mrs. Norris!"

"who!"

"Who of you killed her?"

Filch lay on the ground, turning his head, looking across the faces of the little wizards one by one, full of resentment and hostility, trying to find the murderer, but no matter who he looked at, he felt that they all looked alike.

These one by one...

They all wished they could be driven out of the castle.

These one by one...

They all hoped that something would happen to Mrs. Norris, who could only catch them at night.

"Someone killed the cat." Lockhart looked excited. "It was probably a Transfiguration Torture Curse. I have encountered this kind of curse many times, but it's too late now."

"If I were there, I could have saved it. I happen to know how to break the curse..."

Harry couldn't help but interrupt him, "Professor Lockhart, perhaps you have been using your kidneys too much recently, and your eyesight has also become poor."

"The cat is still alive."

Filch was startled and turned his head quickly. A look of luck and expectation flashed across his eyes. He looked at Harry pitifully and pleadingly, "Oh, Mr. Potter, Norris... is she really still alive?"

"You can trust him, Filch." Professor McGonagall glanced at Lockhart casually, waved her wand, helped Filch up, and used a cleansing spell to tidy up his robes. "Potter is very sharp."

"Mrs. Norris is indeed not dead."

Lockhart stiffened and smiled dryly, "I think so too."

"But why does she seem to be frozen and motionless?" Filch cried, his emotions finally pouring out like a torrent, rolling down, unstoppable.

"Argus, perhaps we should go to the office and talk." Dumbledore had been staring at Norris, and now he spoke, waving his wand and taking it off the shelf. "Minerva, you can send Mrs. Norris to Poppy. She may be able to find a solution."

Professor McGonagall nodded seriously.

"You can go to my office. It's upstairs, very close." Lockhart said eagerly.

Dumbledore nodded and did not refuse.

They had just walked up a few steps toward the staircase.

Harry followed.

"Harry?" Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione were all surprised. Harry didn't seem like someone who liked to join in the fun.

Snape turned around and was about to leave, but then he stopped and stared at Potter, the person he hated the most.

"Maybe I know something." Harry lowered his voice.

Dumbledore said, "Let's go together."

The crowd parted silently to make way for them.

Lockhart walked in front triumphantly, as if everything that had just happened was dominated by him. Snape followed in silence, his face so gloomy that water could drip out of it.

Lockhart led everyone to his office.

The background is decorated in pink tones and is hung with his own photos. When Dumbledore and others came in, the portraits and photos panicked and dodged away. In a hurry, one could see that they were wearing curling irons, facial masks and the like.

Lockhart went to find a match and prepared to light the candle.

Snape waved his wand and the whole room became completely bright.

"Professor Dumbledore." Filch looked pitifully at the old man who was nearly twice his age. "Lorris, what happened to her?"

"She was only petrified," Dumbledore consoled him, "but..."

"She was petrified by a very deep dark magic. It will take me a while to untie it, but Harry is right. She is not dead yet."

"Poppy might know something, and Pomona just asked the second-year wizard to plant mandrakes."

"Once they mature, we can mix a resurrection potion that can remove most deformation curses."

Lockhart volunteered: "I can. I must have brewed this potion more than a hundred times. I can even brew it while I sleep..."

"Mr. Lockhart, are you planning to exchange teaching positions with me?" Snape interrupted him coldly.

Lockhart froze and closed his mouth.

Snape looked at Harry: "If Professor Lockhart just wanted to show off his ability, why is our Mr. Potter here again?"

"After learning so many spells from Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, you finally couldn't suppress your impulsive nature and became arrogant. Do you think you have to solve everything yourself?"

"In his mind, all these professors at Hogwarts are idiots."

"Does it take a savior to solve this incident?"

Harry shook his head. "Perhaps, our Professor Lockhart should send Mr. Filch back. I'm afraid he needs some rest now."

Filch shook his head and gritted his teeth: "Thank... I mean, thank you for your kindness, Mr. Potter, but I want to know who hurt Mrs. Norris!"

"Performing such an unforgivable prank that deserves to be caught, hung up and whipped!"

Harry whispered, comforting him: "I don't know who it is now, but you should believe Dumbledore. If Professor Snape hadn't stuffed a few more feces stones into his head, he should be able to solve it quickly."

Dumbledore rubbed his face: "Harry, you shouldn't say that about an old man."

"Starting tomorrow, I will provide you with some potions to digest fecal stones." Snape sneered, "My dear Headmaster Dumbledore."

Lockhart smiled even more broadly. "I think Mr. Filch can do it himself..."

"He must be in great need of your care," Dumbledore interrupted. "My dear Gilderoy, would you take Filch to Bobby?"

It's a request.

A request that cannot be refused.

Lockhart's smile froze and he nodded with difficulty: "Okay, since it is your order, Headmaster Dumbledore."

He leaves with Filch.

Harry raised his head and looked at the portraits: "Professor Dumbledore, perhaps you can cast a spell..."

Before he said anything, Dumbledore understood and waved his wand, and all the portraits and photos were covered with a layer of white mist: "Now you can speak without worry."

Harry glanced at Snape and moved closer to Dumbledore. "I stole the painting in the Slytherin common room."

Snape was stunned, holding his wand and narrowing his eyes: "Is this what you want to say?"

"It's more than that. Be more patient." Harry shook his head and continued, "Actually, it's a Gryffindor test. The first level requires me to steal Slytherin's portrait."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "If I remember correctly, what was stolen was a landscape painting."

"The little snake in the painting is Slytherin's Animagus," Harry explained.

"And I, because of the fragment of Voldemort's soul, have the ability to speak Parseltongue."

Snape's face changed, becoming twisted and hideous.

Dumbledore was also slightly surprised and tilted his head back.

"Gryffindor may have wanted me to think of the snakes that left the school through the school history, which represented Slytherin." Harry continued, "But he probably didn't expect that a Gryffindor would be able to speak Parseltongue."

“That made it easy for me to find the painting.”

"And the portrait spoke a passage in snake language, and the content was about the secret room."