"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 155: The Writing on the Wall
Early the next morning, as Wyzett and Luna returned from the greenhouses, they found the Ravenclaw common room buzzing with activity.
All the books on their list had been checked out, and the students who'd managed to snag a copy were scattered throughout the room, reading aloud from ancient, weighty tomes as if hosting an impromptu book club.
Clusters of students gathered around, breakfast in hand, munching as they listened to the readings. It was a feast for both body and mind—two birds, one stone.
Readers rotated in and out. When one grew hoarse, another would take over, their voices weaving a tapestry of magical history and speculation.
It wasn't just Ravenclaw; all of Hogwarts was abuzz with talk about last night's events.
As Wyzett listened, he noticed students' conversations ranged far beyond the Chamber of Secrets—many were anxious about Mrs. Norris's condition.
For now, Mrs. Norris lay in the hospital wing, as stiff as a statue, stretched out on a hospital bed.
That alone told Wyzett she was still alive—otherwise, she wouldn't have been moved there.
He guessed Dumbledore's summons to the hospital wing must have something to do with her.
The library had never been so crowded. Everyone wanted to borrow Hogwarts: A History, and Madam Pince had nearly lost her voice telling students, "Come back in a week." As the line grew longer, her tone grew more desperate: "Two weeks! Try again in two weeks—there's nothing available now!"
...
The students couldn't let go of what had happened, but for Filch, the man at the heart of it all, sleep was impossible. He was up at dawn, dark circles under his eyes, haunting the corridor where the writing had appeared.
He drifted through like a restless ghost, pouncing on random students and accusing them, with venomous certainty, of being the "culprit."
If a student denied it, he'd latch onto anything—"flushed cheeks" or "wearing black robes"—to keep the accusations flying.
Faced with this, students didn't even bother dodging the puddle on the floor; they just hurried through, desperate to avoid Filch's "vengeful spirit."
Colin Creevey wasn't so lucky. Clutching his Polaroid camera, he tried to run but slipped in the water, nearly tumbling in.
"Accio Colin!" Wyzett flicked his wand, and Colin soared safely to his side.
Colin's sudden flight startled Filch too. When he saw Wyzett holding his wand, he managed to regain some composure, pressing himself against the wall to let them pass.
Wyzett stepped forward. "Mr. Filch, have you visited Mrs. Norris yet?"
Filch shook his head, letting a few more muddy tears slip down his cheeks. "I can't bear to... seeing her lying there in the hospital bed... it just breaks my heart..."
Wyzett continued gently, "I think Mrs. Norris could really use your company. Maybe you could help by massaging her joints."
Filch clung to this hope, his voice trembling between fear and urgency. "Would that... would that help?"
"At the very least, she'd have someone by her side," Wyzett replied. "I heard people say she was struck by some sort of Dark Magic and turned to stone."
"I read about a similar case in a magazine once. They mentioned several ways to help."
Filch leaned in, desperate. "What ways? Tell me!"
"One's called family therapy," said Wyzett. "Just talk to her like you always do. It can help, even if she can't answer back."
"If Madam Pomfrey thinks it's too noisy, you can still try just touching her—stroke her fur the way she likes. It might help her get through this."
"I'll go try it!" Filch nodded frantically, spinning in place before remembering the way. "The hospital wing's this way... I nearly forgot... Thank you! Thank you!"
Colin stared up at Wyzett in awe, his voice quivering. "Wyzett, you're incredible! You actually convinced Filch!"
Wyzett waved him off. "Mrs. Norris is family to Mr. Filch. Everything happened so suddenly—he just didn't know what to do."
Colin dashed away, beaming as if he'd just uncovered a marvelous secret.
Wyzett then approached the wall, examining the writing with care.
"He's showing off, isn't he..." Luna murmured, keeping her distance from the wall. "Like a Nargle living among porcupines... and I see so many Wrackspurts..."
"It does feel like a display," Wyzett agreed, raising his wand but not getting too close, sensing the magic clinging to the stone.
"There's malice in it... Dark Magic... very intricate. Even magical cleaning agents probably wouldn't get rid of it..."
"To clean these words, you'd need something like the Patronus Charm—magic that can counteract malice and Dark Magic..."
No doubt, Ancient Magic: Purification Charm would be an excellent choice.
Transfiguration would also work well.
Besides ancient magic, Transfiguration was the branch he'd mastered best.
"A thorough analysis," came Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly. "But I wouldn't recommend lingering here any longer. If you stay, you'll be late for class after breakfast."
"Can't be late!" Wyzett nodded, bowing to Professor McGonagall. "We'll be off, Professor!"
As Wyzett and Luna hurried away, Professor McGonagall watched them go, a look of approval in her eyes. "With Filch keeping his cat company, life will be a little easier for everyone."
After a midday nap, on his way to the hospital wing, Wyzett ran into Ravenclaw's house ghost—the Grey Lady.
Compared to Gryffindor's "Nearly Headless Nick," the Grey Lady was far more aloof and reserved.
She rarely acknowledged students, even those from her own house. At best, she'd float above them, offering brief, clipped answers to their questions—never a real conversation.
She seemed to prefer the quietest corners of the castle. Rather than searching for her, it was better to wait in the common room or simply hope for a chance encounter.
It was this elusive nature that made her so hard to find.
But as a house ghost, the Grey Lady must have been at Hogwarts for centuries. Perhaps she knew something about the Chamber of Secrets.
With this hope, Wyzett stepped forward, bowing politely. "Good morning, Grey Lady."
"I remember you... Wyzett." The Grey Lady descended until she hovered at eye level, her gaze cool but not unkind. "You contributed greatly to our victory in the House Cup last year." 🔥 Want to read the next 50+ chapters RIGHT NOW?
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