"No! My Scabbers! Malfoy, why'd you kill my rat?! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Ron's desperate, furious roars echoed through the corridor.
Fists raised, Ron charged at Draco Malfoy. Harry instinctively grabbed him, holding him back.
Hermione snapped to her senses and shouted, "Ron, calm down! We'll figure out what happened, and we won't let whoever's responsible for Scabbers get away with it!"
Malfoy, startled by Ron's wild outburst, seemed to come back to himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head frantically, muttering, "It wasn't me… I didn't do it… It's not my fault…"
The commotion drew a crowd, with more and more students flooding into the third-floor corridor. Leon's class, trailing behind Professor McGonagall, arrived to find the hallway packed.
Professor Lockhart and Professor Flitwick had gotten there first. Harry and Hermione were struggling to restrain an emotional Ron, while Malfoy crouched on the floor, shielding his head from Filch's relentless, spit-flying tirade.
Leon's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy. But then his gaze flicked to the wall opposite the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, where a scrawled message made his expression darken.
As if on cue, Peeves, ever the agent of chaos, floated above the crowd, gleefully somersaulting and chanting the words on the wall like a twisted nursery rhyme: "The Chamber's been cleaned! Rivals of the Heir, let's party~!"
Leon's face grew even grimmer. The playful tone screamed Peeves.
Of course, Peeves had botched things again—never reliable, always making a mess of things. Thankfully, Leon had anticipated this and tampered with Peeves' memory beforehand. The poltergeist only recalled the orders and the vague, Leonring fear from his recent ordeal, not the specific people or events involved.
The scene before them—a petrified cat and rat—was a joint effort by Leon, Kreacher, and Peeves. Early that morning, Leon had woken up to Kreacher's message and gone to petrify Mrs. Norris and Scabbers. He'd returned to the dorms while Kreacher hid the petrified animals on the fourth floor. Meanwhile, Peeves stirred up trouble on the third floor, convincing Moaning Myrtle to flood the corridor. While everyone was distracted with classes and Filch ran off to snitch, Peeves retrieved the petrified cat and rat and set up the crime scene.
There was a slight hiccup, though. Just as Peeves was about to stage the scene, Ron showed up on the third floor, looking for Scabbers. Thinking fast, Peeves released a random gray rat to lure him away. Later, when Harry and Hermione appeared on the third floor, Peeves pulled the same trick, sending them chasing after another rat to the fourth floor. With the coast clear, Peeves finished setting up the scene and went back to tormenting Myrtle in the bathroom.
As for why Malfoy was here? Well, that was almost laughable. After Leon had humiliated him by causing his baldness, Malfoy had tried every hair-growth potion and tonic in the hospital wing to no avail. Too embarrassed to write home for help and even shunned by Snape, who found him disgraceful, Malfoy was desperate. Leon's fake wig prank had pushed him over the edge, but it also gave him an idea.
Everyone knew Lockhart took impeccable care of his hair. In a last-ditch effort, Malfoy had sneaked into Lockhart's office, swiping every hair product he could find and slathering them on his bald scalp. And, unbelievably, it worked!
This morning, with no classes on his schedule, Malfoy had come back to steal more products to stockpile. But as he reached Lockhart's office door, he stumbled upon the horrifying scene of the petrified animals. Before he could process it, the crowd caught him red-handed.
Talk about bad luck—Merlin himself couldn't have scripted a worse day for Malfoy.
Professor McGonagall, spotting the petrified cat and rat dangling from a torch bracket, then glancing at Malfoy, looked stunned before her face settled into stern resolve. She stepped over to Professor Flitwick. "Filius, what's going on?"
Lockhart, eager to steal the spotlight, launched into a rambling explanation. "I know exactly what this is! I've seen something like it in Wagadu. It's likely a curse… yes, a Transfiguration Torture Curse! That's it, no doubt! I wrote about it in my autobiography—back then, I—"
McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line, her rare impatience showing.
Just then, Professor Dumbledore arrived, other teachers in tow. "Thank you, Gilderoy," he said, cutting off Lockhart's endless prattle. He also silenced Filch, who was still cursing at Malfoy.
Dumbledore approached the torch bracket, glanced at the writing on the wall, and gently took down Mrs. Norris and Scabbers. "Come with me," he said, his eyes signaling to a few in the group. "Argus, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley."
Catching sight of Harry and Hermione beside Ron, he nodded. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, you two as well. And…" His half-moon spectacles glinted. "…Peeves, you too."
Peeves grinned slyly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Whatever you say, Headmaster."
Lockhart, desperate to stay relevant, hurried toward his office door. "To my office, then! Headmaster, it's right here, we can—"
"No!" Snape glided forward like a shadow, blocking Lockhart's path. "This incident happened outside your office. Until we investigate, no one enters that room."
Lockhart, intimidated by Snape but reluctant to have his office labeled a crime scene, opened his mouth to argue. Before he could, Dumbledore strode toward a nearby empty classroom.
The crowd watched in silence as the group passed, McGonagall, Snape, and Lockhart hurrying after Dumbledore. Flitwick and Sprout stayed behind to secure the scene and herd the students back to classes or their dorms, warning them not to wander the castle.
Leon desperately wanted to slip into that classroom and hear what came next, but reason held him back. It was too risky. Peeves had already made a mess of things, and if Leon—an unrelated bystander—tried eavesdropping on the investigation, it'd look far too suspicious. Playing the part of an uninvolved NPC was the smarter move.
He followed his classmates back to the first-floor Transfiguration classroom. Even with McGonagall absent, no one dared skip her class. The moment they sat down, the young witches and wizards erupted into excited chatter.
Leon halfheartedly responded to Ginny and Colin's comments, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. If only he could see through stone and catch a glimpse of what was happening on the third floor.
In a third-floor classroom, the petrified Mrs. Norris and Scabbers lay stiffly on a desk. Dumbledore leaned over them, his long, crooked nose nearly brushing their fur as he examined them closely. McGonagall stood nearby, observing intently.
Snape's unblinking gaze was fixed on Lockhart, who was so unnerved he didn't dare open his mouth. Harry and Hermione sat on either side of Ron, silently supporting him. Ron and Filch glared daggers at Malfoy, who was practically shrinking into the corner.
Peeves, the most carefree of the bunch, juggled a few chicken drumsticks like a circus performer.
The room was eerily quiet.
Finally, Dumbledore's soft incantations broke the silence. He tapped Mrs. Norris with his wand—nothing. Then he tapped Scabbers, and his movements paused.
Straightening up, Dumbledore asked his first question since beginning the inspection: "Mr. Weasley, how long have you had this rat?"
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