As they walked into Lockhart's dimly lit office, there was a sudden commotion on the wall. Harry saw several photos of Lockhart hiding in a panic, with curling irons in their hair. At this moment, the real Lockhart lit the candle on the table and stepped back. Dumbledore placed Lady Loris on the polished table and began to examine it carefully. Augustus glanced around the room, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione nervously exchanged glances before sitting down on a few chairs that weren't shining by candlelight, and watched closely.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, hooked nose almost touched the fur on Lady Loris. He scrutinized it through the lenses of his half-moon glasses, his slender fingers poking and poking here and there. Professor McGonagall squinted over the cat, her face almost touching the cat. Snape stood behind them, half of his body hidden in the shadows, looking eerie. The expression on his face was strange: as if he was desperately trying to restrain himself from laughing. Lockhart wandered around them, incessantly giving advice.

"It must have been a spell that killed it—probably a Transfiguration Torture Spell. I've seen people use this spell many times, and I'm sorry I wasn't there, I just happened to know that the spell could have saved it," Lockhart said triumphantly as the people around him boasted.

A smile flashed in Augustus's eyes, this Lockhart is a very interesting person, at this time, he can still say so many useless nonsense without blushing and heartbeat, I have to say that he is indeed very talented in this aspect.

"I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," Lockhart continued, "and a series of attacks, detailed in my autobiography." At that time, I provided various amulets to the common people, and the problem was solved at once."

At this point, Dumbledore whispered something strange and tapped Lady Loris with his wand, but there was no response: Lady Loris was still lying there stiff, like a freshly made specimen.

Augustus listened carefully to Dumbledore's meaningless syllables, ancient scripts? An effective means of healing curses or soul attacks, but the cat in front of him clearly doesn't fall into his scope of healing.

Dumbledore straightened up.

"It's not dead, Filch." He whispered.

Lockhart was counting how many murders he had prevented, when he suddenly stopped. "Not dead?" Filch choked up, looking at Lady Loris through his fingers, "And what is it all about—it's stiff, like it's frozen?"

"Finally discovered?" Augustus nodded secretly, it seems that this legendary mage is still quite strict about the matter, and it took so long to come to a conclusion from many conjectures.

"It's petrified," Dumbledore said ("Ah! I think so too!'" said Lockhart), "but I don't know exactly what's going on" "Ask him!" Filch screamed, turning his mottled, tear-stained face to Harry. "There's no way a second-year student can do that," Dumbledore said firmly, "it requires the deepest dark arts—"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch said with a spit of his face, his fat and sagging face turning purple. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found out—in my office—he knew that I was—I was—" Filch's face twitched horribly. "He knows I'm a squib!"

"Filch, even if Harry knew that you were a Squib, there was no need to murder your cat, if it was really him, it was entirely possible to petrify you with his abilities, so why bother planning a terrorist attack just for a cat? Besides, as Dumbledore had said, a second-year student couldn't use such advanced dark arts. Augustus shook his head, and spoke his opinion slowly.

"Mr. Augustus is right, Harry can't be the murderer." A glint flashed across Dumbledore's lenses, and there was an unmistakable tone in his words.

"Allow me to say a word, Headmaster." Snape said in the shadows that Harry's sense of foreboding had intensified. He believed that what Snape said would never do him any good.

"Perhaps, Potter and his friends just shouldn't have been in that place at that time," Snape said, his lips twisting into a sneer, as if he were deeply skeptical, "but we did encounter a series of suspicions. Why did they go to the corridor above? Why didn't they attend the Halloween feast?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione scrambled to explain that they had gone to the death party. "Hundreds of ghosts have come, and they can prove that we're there—"

"But after that, why don't you come to the banquet?" Snape said, dark eyes glistening in the candlelight. "Why are you going to the corridor above?"

Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry.

"Because—because—" Harry said, his heart pounding. "Because we're tired and want to go to bed early." He said.

Snape's ugly smile became even more pronounced.

"My opinion is, Headmaster, Potter isn't exactly telling the truth." "We should probably revoke some of his privileges until he tells us what it is," he said. Personally, I think it's best to let him go out of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and wait until he's honest. ”

"Honestly, Severus," Professor McGonagall snapped, "I see no reason why this kid should not be allowed to play. The cat wasn't hit in the head with a broomstick. And there is no evidence that Potter did anything wrong. ”

"It's him, it must be him!" Filch stood in the middle of the teacher, and suddenly pointed to Augustus, "This must have been done by him, Harry and he are accomplices, and I have also heard rumors of the Chamber of Secrets, with his position and strength in Slytherin, he is completely related to the heir to the Chamber of Secrets, and it is obvious that he is fully capable of petrifying my cat." ”

Augustus didn't laugh angrily: "What secret room do you think an heir of the House of Julius would be interested in Salazar Slytherin?" In terms of history alone, this school is not as old as the Julius family, and even if the family is aside, I would not be interested in any inheritance at all. ”

A hint of trepidation flashed in Filch's eyes, and he realized that his correction of this man seemed to be a mistake, regardless of his talent in school, and his large family alone was not something that a small faculty administrator could slander at will.

"We can cure it, Filch." Dumbledore said patiently, "Lady Sprout has gotten some mandrakes lately. Once they have grown and matured, I have a medicine that can bring Lady Loris back to life. "I'll make it," Lockhart interjected, "I've made it a hundred times, and I can dream and make a mandrake resurrection potion—" "I beg your pardon," Snape said coldly, "I think I'm the Potions teacher at this school." There was an awkward silence. You can go. Dumbledore said to Augustus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

The four of them rushed out of the office, closed the last door, the light was far away, the dim light in the corridor flickered, Augustus had a complicated expression on his face, a gust of wind blew through the window, his robes were flying, his long golden hair looked a little messy in the wind, it was another eventful autumn, Augustus who was standing silently thought.

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