Malfoy, because of course it's Malfoy, steps back, smirking nastily. What had he even meant by that?
Harry wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face (possibly with a well-placed fireball) but his magic is already lashing around wildly around in his chest.
This day has really just gone from bad to worse. Harry's starting to think he'd prefer a repeat of last year to whatever this mess is. At least Harry could throw magic at a troll until it goes away. He can't throw magic at a dead cat to bring it back to life.
Harry sees the worried faces of his other friends push their way to the front of the crowd. Hermione looks like she wants to run right up to the two to make sure they're okay, but Daphne and Blaise are holding her back. Theo is staring at Malfoy, eyes dead and hand surreptitiously on his forearm where Harry is pretty sure he keeps one of his knives.
Harry does not envy Malfoy, but, well, it's not like the boy doesn't deserve Theo's ire. Besides, Harry mostly trusts Ron to keep Theo from causing any lasting harm. He had the last time; after the quidditch incident, anyhow.
Speaking of Ron: he's quietly comforting a distraught Ginny, who'd burst into tears at the sight of Mrs. Norris. Harry doesn't blame her one bit- he sort of feels like bursting into tears himself.
Filch (likely drawn to the crowd by Malfoy's proclamation) pushes his way through the crowd, takes in the grisly scene, and lets out a horrible howl. Harry shudders as he tries and fails to not to think of what he'd do if he saw Merlin in such a state.
Filch's gaze falls onto Harry, and his face goes stormy- "you! You've murdered my cat! How could you!"
Filch advances and Harry automatically shrinks backwards. Neville steps in front of him, but Harry's too busy trying to keep his magic from lighting everyone on fire to truly appreciate the gesture.
"Argus!"
Dumbledore has arrived on scene, and Harry feels a rush of relief he would usually never associate with the headmaster. The man sweeps past Harry and Neville, detaching Mrs. Norris from the wall sconce with a wave of his hand.
"Come with me, Argus," he says sternly.
Harry relaxes as Filch backs off, glaring at Harry through his tears; but tenses up again as Dumbledore then says, "you too, Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom."
Lockhart steps forward eagerly, because of course he does, and says, "you can use my office! It's the closest, just a couple floors up. It's no trouble, no trouble at all."
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore says, walking through the crowd of students that stand aside to let him pass easily.
Harry and Neville follow closely behind. Harry sees Snape and McGonagall pushing their way through the crowd as well, trailed by an excited Lockhart and a quietly crying Filch.
Theo, Ron, Hermione, Daphne, and Blaise make it all the way to the door of Lockhart's office before they are told in no uncertain terms to go back to their dorms by a stern McGonagall. Harry watches morosely as the door is closed on the indignant faces of his friends and Neville tugs Harry over to a couple of out-of-the-way chairs.
Lockhart wastes no time in lighting the candles on his desk, illuminating the dark corners of the Defense office. Harry thinks he can smell a whiff of garlic and it's quickly replaced with the smell of burning plastic. Neville squeezes his hand reassuringly, pulling Harry from his reverie. Harry gives Neville a shaky smile.
Harry's gaze catches on the portrait- or, portraits Lockhart has hung up on his walls. They're all of… Lockhart.
Is this man real? Surely not. Surely no one is that conceited. He tears his eyes away from the walls, looking over to where the professors and Filch are gathered around Mrs. Norris.
Dumbledore has his wand out and is muttering under his breath, face inches away from the cat. McGonagall is quietly whispering to a stony-faced Snape.
Filch's shoulders are heaving with sobs as Lockhart confidently assures the man exactly how his cat had died and how preventable it would've been had Lockhart been there. Harry reaches for Merlin.
"What's going on?" Merlin hisses sleepily.
"Shh," Harry hisses softly. "Can't talk much now."
Merlin shifts and Harry knows she's wide awake all of a sudden.
"We're safe," Harry assures her. "Just… I need to know you're there, is all."
Merlin settles around Harry's hand, coiling around it. Harry relaxes slightly.
"She's not dead, Argus," Dumbledore announces finally, cutting Lockhart off.
Harry's head whips up and Filch bursts into another round of tears.
"B-but h-how?" Filch says through his tears. "She's s-so stiff, and c-cold, and-" he sniffs, unable to go on.
"She's been petrified," Dumbledore says gravely. "But for how, I cannot say."
"Ask him!" Filch shrieks, rounding on Harry.
Neville tightens his grip on one of Harry's hands, and Merlin tightens on the other. Harry thinks if it weren't for his friends, Hogwarts would undoubtedly be a lot more on fire than it is usually.
"No second year could have done this," Dumbledore says, shaking his head. "It would take dark magic of the most advanced-"
"He did it, I know he did it!" Filch growls.
"I didn't," Harry denies hotly, resolutely ignoring the sharp spike of irrational panic Dumbledore's words on dark magic had provoked. "I wouldn't! I never touched Mrs. Norris!"
"H-he was wi-with me all-all day!" Neville protests at the same time. "He-he didn't have th-the chance!"
"Why were you there in the corridor then? Missing the feast for kicks and giggles, were you?" Filch accuses angrily.
"We got invited to Sir Nick's deathday party! Ask literally any ghost, they all saw us," Harry says.
"Why go to the corridor afterwards? Surely you'd want to rejoin the feast," Filch says, eyes narrowed. Harry's mind blanks.
"W-we just wan-wanted to-to go to b-bed," Neville says after a tense moment. Harry shoots a grateful look at him.
"Likely story," Filch says.
"Loath as I am to point it out," Snape cuts in smoothly. "Mister Potter and Mister Longbottom both have ample reason not to fully embrace the spirit of the holiday."
Harry exchanges a disbelieving look with Neville. Had Snape just defended them? Even McGongall looks surprised.
Filch won't be swayed. "My cat has been, been petrified. I want to see the boy punished!"
"Honestly, Argus," McGonagall says tiredly. "We have no proof that Mister Potter is involved at all. It's all just circumstance."
Dumbledore turns his gaze to Harry. Harry tries not to look suspicious as he simultaneously avoids the man's gaze. He really needs to find a way to learn occlumency.
"Innocent until proven guilty," Dumbledore agrees, finally.
Filch looks furious.
"We will be able to cure Mrs. Norris," Dumbledore assures Filch. "By a stroke of luck, Professor Sprout has a nursery full of mandrakes right now. As soon as they've matured we'll be able to create a restorative draught from the roots."
Neville gives a sad little sigh but Harry is just relieved that Mrs. Norris will be okay.
"Of course, I would be happy to make the draught," Lockhart says importantly. "I've had experience making a variety of restorative medicines, and am quite proficient at it, if I do say so myself!"
Someday Lockhart will leave Hogwarts and the halls themselves will rejoice, Harry decides.
"Hm. Interesting," Snape says, sounding distinctly uninterested. "However, seeing as I am this school's potions master, I daresay I will be the one making the draught. It's in my contract, you see. A shame, really, but I'm sure I'll be able to make do without your expertise."
"Oh, Severus, I'd be more than happy to give you some pointers," Lockhart says, smiling and winking.
"I apologize. Let me rephrase: I will have to be cold in the ground before you have anything to do with a potion under this school's roof."
Lockhart splutters.
It's times like these that make Harry wish that Snape could be a likable person. Unfortunately, Harry has sat through one too many potions class for that to ever become a reality. Neville is looking similarly conflicted.
"You may go," Dumbledore says, nodding to Harry and Neville as Lockhart tries in vain to recover.
Neville stands up and tugs Harry with him, and they walk out of the office together.
As Harry had expected, Hermione, Ron, Theo, Daphne, and Blaise are all sitting directly outside the hall. Hermione starts as the door opens and looks up with a guilty expression on her face that vanishes when she sees it's just Harry and Neville.
"It is past curfew, you know," Harry points out. He's immediately on the receiving end of five flat stares. "Okay! Jesus. I just thought I'd point it out."
"What happened?" Blaise asks.
Harry grimaces. "Not here," he decides. "Let's go find somewhere to talk."
Hermione nods. "I know a really good spot nearby," she says. "Follow me."
Hermione leads the way, going back down the stairs and just past the scene of the crime. Harry takes the opportunity to brief Merlin on what had happened. The other six walk in silence until they stop in front of what seems to be… an out of order bathroom?
"Hermione," Harry says as he follows Hermione in through the door. "This is a bathroom."
"An out of order bathroom," Ron adds, looking pointedly at the sign.
"Even worse, if I'm not mistaken then this is Myrtle's bathroom," Blaise says, looking disgustedly at the puddles of water pooled on the floor.
Daphne swats the back of his head. "Don't be rude! Myrtle is just sensitive."
"That," Blaise laughs, "is a massive understatement. She floods this hallway every day."
"Wait, are we talking about the ghost?" Harry asks. He hopes not. Harry's a bit sick of ghosts.
"Sh-she's probably s-still be at-at the party," Neville says reassuringly, obviously picking up on Harry's distaste.
"You two didn't show up at the feast because you were at a party. With ghosts," Theo states.
It's not a question, but Harry nods anyway. "Neville got invited to Sir Nick's deathday party, and I went along. We left a couple minutes before the feast ended when I…" Harry trails off, grimacing.
When he what? Heard a murderous voice only he could hear, then followed it right to the scene of the crime?
Neville reaches over and gives Harry's shoulder a reassuring pat. Harry sighs, then continues.
"I heard a voice. Neville couldn't hear anything, but I heard it saying it was going to kill someone. I followed it right to Mrs. Norris."
"Did you tell the professors?" Ron asks worriedly.
"No," Harry shakes his head. "I didn't want to sound crazy. Or accidentally tell Dumbledore anything he doesn't actually need to know."
Ron gets a relieved look on his face.
Blaise nods thoughtfully. "That does sound crazy." Daphne smacks him on the head again.
"Hey!" Blaise protests. "I didn't say I didn't believe him! Come on, this is Harry we're talking about. He's probably hearing the voice of Hogwarts herself or something equally ridiculous."
Harry lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He hadn't actually thought his friends wouldn't believe him, but the confirmation is still a relief.
"Thanks, Blaise. I, uh, don't think it was that, though."
"Should we tell the professors?" Hermione asks.
Harry leans against a wall, thinking hard. In all honesty, they really probably should tell someone.
Except… if Remus were to hear of something potentially dangerous happening at Hogwarts again, Harry would no doubt be pulled for the rest of the school year.
"No," Harry says, making up his mind. "It's probably just some sort of… awful Halloween prank, or stupid scare-tactic. If it happens again, we tell someone."
Harry really, really, really doesn't want it to be anything. And maybe if they ignore the problem, just this once it'll go away.
Both Neville and Daphne look uncertain, but Blaise, Ron, and Theo agree easily enough.
"What about the voice? I'm not sure we should just be brushing this off." Hermione says, undeterred.
"Oh!" Neville says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "M-maybe the voice w-was a trick! Sir Patrick getting revenge on-on you for humiliating h-him!"
Harry hums in consideration. "That… that could actually explain it."
"What are you talking about," Theo asks flatly.
Harry gives the others a quick rundown of what had happened at the party.
"So what, this ghost gets pissed off and then… petrifies a cat?" Ron asks, unconvinced.
"If it wasn't a coincidence, I'll bet it was a coordinated attack- Patrick doing the voice and Peeves doing the writing and petrification." Harry says excitedly.
He's becoming more and more sure that the whole thing really is just a stupid prank- the elf at the beginning of the year and the voice a month ago were probably just… build up. For the prank. Maybe Malfoy is in on it too?
"Well," Ron says. "Hopefully that'll be, uh, the last of it, then."
He doesn't sound convinced and Harry's other friends look a bit doubtful, but Harry decides not to worry about it. Not this time. The adults can figure this one out. Besides, it's not like anyone actually got hurt.