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...... Most likely a Transfiguration Torture Spell. I've seen people use this spell many times, and I'm sorry I wasn't there, I happened to know the spell and could have saved it......" Lockhart triumphantly boasted to the people around him.

A smile flashed in Sherlock's eyes, this Lockhart is a very interesting person, at this time, he can still say so much 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 went on to say, "A series of attacks that are detailed in my autobiography. At that time, I provided all kinds of 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 lay there stiff, like a freshly made specimen.

Sherlock 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.

Finally, 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 Mrs. Loris through his fingers, "Then why is it all ...... Stiff all over, as if frozen? ”

"That's because he's petrified, I wanted to say that the first time I saw it, I think Headmaster Dumbledore had already looked it out." Sherlock stood up at this time and said that it is very complicated to study whether a person or creature is petrified, and from Dumbledore's examination just now, it is known that there are too many ways to make a creature achieve this effect of petrification, but the state of petrification is unique.

Dumbledore gave Sherlock a deep look, and he thought to himself that he must not give the slightest contempt or carelessness to this child, and he said, "Yes, Mr. Sherlock has a great eye, and it is indeed petrified!" ”

Lockhart stood next to him and said, "I think so too. "Unfortunately, no one would believe it, not even Hermione.

Now Hermione doesn't worship Gilderoy Lockhart as much as in the original books, because there is a better and more handsome Sherlock, and even Assinsha often laughs at Hermione, and is fascinated by Sherlock.

Although it is now known that the cat is petrified, there are more things that no one understands why, and Sherlock is reluctant to reveal them, so it is better to leave these things to Dumbledore to solve.

"Ask him!" Filch screamed, turning his mottled, tear-stained face to Harry.

"It's impossible for a second-year student to do that," Dumbledore said firmly, "it requires the deepest ...... of the Dark Arts," and he went on to say "it's impossible for a student to do it except for one student, not even a seventh-year." ”

Hearing Dumbledore's words, Sherlock felt several eyes fixed on him, and he coughed lightly, suggesting that he was in the Headmaster's office just now, and he had come with Dumbledore.

"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 ...... In my office...... He knew I was a ...... I'm a ......," Filch's face twitched horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!"

"Filch, even if Harry knew you were a Squib, there was no need to specifically murder your cat, if it was really him, with his abilities, it was entirely possible to petrify you, 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. Sherlock shook his head, slowly stating his opinion.

"Mr. Sherlock 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 run into a series of doubts." Why on earth 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 are there......" Asinsha, as the person concerned, said more convincingly, much stronger than Hermione Harry and the others.

"But after that, why don't you come to the banquet?" Snape said, dark eyes glistening in the candlelight. "Why did you go to the hallway up there?"

The other three all 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 as 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. ”

Everyone was still debating, and Sherlock really couldn't stand it, "It's just petrification, and it's not that there is no way to bring the dead back to life, and the mandrake can be concocted into a special anti-petrification potion......"

"Mrs. Sprout has recently gotten some mandrakes, and once they are ripe, I have a medicine that will bring Mrs. Loris back to life." Dumbledore believed this.

"I'll make it." Lockhart interjected, "I've made it a hundred times, I can dream and make mandrake resurrection potions at the same time......"

"I beg your pardon......" Snape said coldly, "I think I'm the Potions teacher at this school. ”

There was an embarrassing silence. "You can go." Dumbledore said to them, but stopped Sherlock from behind, "Wait, Mr. Sherlock doesn't include you, I hope you can do me a favor......"

Harry and Ron looked at Sherlock with admiration, they knew why Sherlock had stayed, and it was a great honor for a student to be asked for help by the professor and the headmaster, and it also proved that Sherlock's talent and strength were not comparable to those of their little wizards.

The four of them rushed out of the office, closed the last door, and the light was gone, the dim light in the hallway flickered, they were destined to not sleep this night, at least Harry certainly wouldn't be able to sleep.