bacchusnovels Chapter 138 I'm Willing
Chapter 138 I'm Willing
Chapter 138 I'm Willing
"Attention, everyone!" Nick announced loudly, striding towards the podium and standing under the cold blue spotlight. "My departed lords, ladies and gentlemen, my heart is heavy with grief at this moment—."
But his speech was quickly ignored.
Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunters started playing a game of head-to-head hockey.
The audience turned to look, and Nick's futile attempts to regain their attention were in vain.
However, as Sir Patrick's head flew past amidst cheers, Nick had no choice but to admit defeat.
Hermione was already feeling the biting cold, and her stomach was growling with hunger.
"I can't take it anymore," Ron muttered, his teeth chattering from the cold. As the band's creaking music resumed, the ghosts began to dance.
"Let's go," Harry agreed.
They smiled and nodded to the ghosts watching them, then slowly retreated towards the door.
Soon, they were walking quickly through the dimly lit candlelit corridor.
"The pudding probably hasn't finished yet," Ron said expectantly, leading the way up the steps to the foyer.
Suddenly, Harry heard that voice.
"—Tear you apart—Kill you—"
That cold, murderous voice once echoed in Lockhart's office.
Harry stopped abruptly, gripped the stone wall, and listened intently, glancing around to try and locate the source of the sound in the dimly lit corridor.
"Harry, what's wrong with you?"
"That voice is back—don't make a sound—"
"—..Hunger. A long, long hunger—"
"Listen!" Harry exclaimed eagerly. Ron and Hermione froze, staring at him.
"—The time for slaughter has come—"
The sound gradually faded, and Harry realized it was moving, moving upwards.
He stared intently at the dark ceiling, a mixture of fear and excitement welling up inside him.
How could it possibly move upwards?
Could it be a ghost, unbound by the stone ceiling?
"This way!" he shouted, and started running quickly, rushing up the stairs and through the hallway.
The hall was filled with the sounds of laughter and merriment from the Halloween party, drowning out all other noises.
Harry dashed up the marble stairs to the second floor, with Ron and Hermione following closely behind, stumbling and catching up.
"Harry, we're going to—"
"Shh!"
Harry listened intently. A faint voice came from a floor above: "...I smell blood—I smell blood!"
Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"It's about to move!" he shouted, ignoring Ron and Hermione's confused looks, and quickly climbed a flight of stairs, listening to the heavy sound of his own footsteps.
Harry raced through the entire third floor, with Ron and Hermione following breathlessly behind.
Finally, they turned a corner and came to an empty passageway.
"Harry, what's going on?" Ron asked, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I can't hear anything—"
Hermione suddenly gasped and pointed to the end of the corridor.
"look!"
Something was flashing on the wall in front of them.
They approached cautiously, squinting to carefully discern in the darkness.
Between the two windows, on the wall about a foot off the ground, some writing gleamed faintly in the torchlight:
The secret room has been opened.
Be wary of those who oppose your heir.
"What's hanging down there?" Ron asked in a trembling voice.
They approached cautiously, and Harry nearly slipped: the ground was wet.
They approached the sign step by step, their eyes fixed on the dark figures below.
When they saw what it was, the three of them retreated in terror, splashing water everywhere.
It was Mrs. Lorris, Filch's cat, her tail hanging from the torch stand, her body stiff as a board, her eyes wide open and vacant.
They stood frozen for a few seconds, then Ron spoke up: "We need to get out of here right now."
"Perhaps we should try to save her—" Harry stammered.
"Listen to me," Ron said urgently, "we don't want to be found out here."
But it's too late.
The low, rumbling noise, like distant thunder, signaled the end of the banquet.
Footsteps and cheerful laughter echoed from both ends of the corridor as students crowded into the passageway.
The laughter and chatter of the people in front abruptly ceased when they saw the cat hanging upside down.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone in the middle of the corridor, and the students quieted down, gathering around to watch this horrifying scene.
In the dead silence, a voice rang out loudly.
"Look what you've done!"
It's Draco Malfoy.
He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes gleaming, his usually pale face flushed with excitement.
He stared at the stiff cat, a smug smile on his face. "What happened? What exactly happened?"
Filch was clearly drawn over by Malfoy's shouts, and he struggled through the crowd of onlookers.
His gaze then fell on Mrs. Lorris, and he ran backward, covering his face in horror with his hands.
"My cat! My Lady Lorice! What's wrong?" he cried out hoarsely.
Suddenly, his wide eyes locked onto Harry.
"It was you!" he screamed. "You did it! You killed my cat! I'll make you pay! I—"
"Argus, calm down!"
Professor Dumbledore arrived just in time, followed by a group of teachers including Sean.
He quickly weaved through Harry, Ron, and Hermione, carefully rescuing Mrs. Norris from the torchstand.
"Argus, come with me," he said calmly to Filch. "And the three of you, Potter, Weasley, and Granger, come along too."
At this moment, Lockhart eagerly stepped forward.
"Headmaster, my office is upstairs, the closest one to here—you can—" "Thank you for your kindness, Gilderoy," Dumbledore politely interrupted him.
They slowly passed through the passage made by the silent onlookers.
Lockhart appeared unusually excited, following proudly behind Dumbledore;
Professor McGonagall, Sean, and Snape also accompanied them.
As they stepped into Lockhart's dimly lit office, the photos on the wall suddenly stirred.
Sean noticed that in several of Lockhart's photos, the people were frantically hiding, and their hair was still wrapped in hairpins.
At this moment, the real Lockhart lit the candle on the table and then stepped aside.
Dumbledore gently placed Mrs. Lorris on the gleaming table and began to examine her carefully.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged anxious glances before sitting in chairs out of the candlelight, observing intently.
Dumbledore's long nose almost touched Mrs. Lorris's hair.
He examined it carefully through his half-moon shaped glasses, touching and exploring it with his slender fingers.
Professor McGonagall also bent down and squinted to get a closer look; her face was almost touching the cat's.
Snape stood behind them, half of his body hidden in the shadows, giving off a gloomy feeling.
A strange expression appeared on his face, as if he was trying his best to suppress a laugh.
Lockhart, meanwhile, lingered around, offering various suggestions.
Sean observed Snape's expression, which naturally drew Snape's gaze back, so Sean turned his attention back to Dumbledore.
"This must be caused by a curse—most likely a transfiguration torture spell. I have witnessed others use this spell many times, but unfortunately I was not present at the time. I happen to know how to break the spell and could have saved it..." Lockhart continued speaking at length.
However, his words were interrupted by Filch's sobs.
Filch slumped into a chair by the table, covering his face with his hands, unable to look Mrs. Lorris in the eye.
Although Hermione didn't have much affection for Filch, she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him at this moment.
However, she was more worried about her own situation.
If Dumbledore had believed Filch, she would undoubtedly have faced expulsion.
This level of punishment was simply unimaginable for a good student like her.
At this moment, Dumbledore chanted some inexplicable incantations in a low voice and tapped Mrs. Lorris lightly with his wand.
However, all efforts seemed to be in vain; Mrs. Lorris remained lying there stiffly, like a newly made specimen.
"—I remember something similar happened in Ouagadougou," Lockhart continued. "It was a series of attacks, detailed in my autobiography. At the time, I provided the people with various amulets, and the problem was quickly resolved." As he spoke, the photos on the wall nodded in agreement, one of them even forgetting to remove its hairnet.
Finally, Dumbledore straightened up.
"It's not dead, Filch," he announced softly.
Lockhart was counting the number of murders he had prevented when he heard this and suddenly stopped.
"Not dead?" Filch peered through his fingers at Mrs. Lorris. "Then why is it so stiff, as if frozen in place?"
"It has been petrified," Dumbledore explained, "but the exact reason is still unclear—"
"May I interrupt, Headmaster?" Snape spoke from the shadows, and the three children's unease grew stronger.
They knew perfectly well that what Snape was about to say would not be in their favor.
"Perhaps Potter and his friends simply shouldn't have been there at that time," Snape chuckled sarcastically, as if deeply skeptical. "But we do have a series of questions. Why were they in the corridor up there? And why didn't they attend the Feast of the Feast?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly explained their attendance at the death anniversary party: "...There were hundreds of ghosts there to testify for us—"
"But then what? Why didn't you come to the banquet?" Snape pressed, his dark eyes flashing coldly in the candlelight. "Why were you in the corridor up there?" Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry, waiting for his answer.
Actually, Hermione probably knows why Harry is like this.
Ever since he left Lockhart's office, he'd been muttering that he'd heard something.
Today is the same situation as last time.
"Because—because—" Harry stammered, his heart pounding like a drum.
He had a vague feeling that it seemed too incredible for them to know that he had been led there by a ghostly voice that only he could hear.
"Because we were tired and wanted to rest early," he finally said.
"Not eating dinner?" Snape raised an eyebrow, a smug smile playing on his thin face. "I suppose the food the ghosts serve at the party isn't really suitable for us living people."
"We're not hungry," Ron shouted back, but his stomach growled at the most inopportune moment.
Snape's smile grew wider, filled with mockery.
"Headmaster, I personally believe that Potter hasn't told us everything," he stated, explaining his point of view. "Perhaps we should temporarily strip him of some privileges until he tells us the truth. I even think we should remove him from the Gryffindor Quidditch team and reconsider once he becomes more sincere."
“Severus, to be honest,” Professor McGonagall retorted sharply, “I see no reason to stop this boy from participating in the game. After all, the cat wasn’t hit by the flying broomstick. Besides, there’s no concrete evidence that Potter was at fault.”
Dumbledore stared intently at Harry, his bright blue eyes seeming to see right through him, making Harry feel like he had nowhere to hide.
"Severus is innocent unless proven guilty," Dumbledore stated firmly.
Sean even wanted to applaud what Dumbledore said.
Look, this is the enlightenment of the greatest white wizard of this century.
If one cannot prove their innocence, they are guilty; or, if someone is falsely accused, they need to prove their innocence.
If society degenerates to either of the two points mentioned above, then it is absolutely insane.
For example:
Snape was clearly displeased, as was Filch.
"My cat's turned to stone!" Filch roared furiously, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. "Someone has to be held responsible!"
"Don't worry, Filch, we can heal it," Dumbledore reassured calmly. "Professor Sprout recently acquired some mandrakes. Once they mature, I'll be able to make the potion that will restore Mrs. Norris."
"Leave the preparation of the medicine to me," Lockhart interjected eagerly. "I know this medicine inside and out."
Mixing it is a piece of cake for me—”
"Excuse my bluntness," Snape interrupted him, a hint of disdain in his voice, "I am the Potions teacher at this school."
An awkward silence fell over the scene.
Finally, Dumbledore broke the deadlock, saying to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "You may leave now."
To be honest, Sean also wanted to leave with the three kids.
But Dumbledore clearly had no intention of letting the teachers leave; he obviously had something else to say to them.
So Sean could only force himself to suppress his anxiety, because at that moment... Luna was still in his office.
Let's rewind to twenty minutes ago.
Sean summoned the basilisk and hung the petrified Lady Lorris on the wall.
These words were written on it with magic.
After he finished doing all this, he looked at his masterpiece and nodded in satisfaction.
Unexpectedly, Luna's clear voice came from behind.