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Part 2: Descendants of Slytherin Chapter 7: Petrified Loris (3)

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    In the dark and empty corridor, a group of people were running.  "This way." Harry called, running up the stairs and entering the lobby.  The chatter of the Halloween party echoed through the hall, but Harry couldn't hear the sound.  Harry sprinted up the granite steps to the first floor.  Hermione was still confused, but at this time, Aki's face was serious. He had already felt that something was happening, something bloody.  "Just hope it doesn't cause real death!" Harry ran up to the second floor, with Ash and Hermione panting behind him.  Stopped in the last empty aisle.  "Harry, what is going on?" Hermione wiped the sweat from her face with her hands.  "I can't hear anything" Suddenly, Hermione pointed to the corridor and gasped.  "Look!" There was a light shining on the wall in front of me.  Step by step, they slowly walked into the dim corridor, their eyes widening.  On the wall between the two windows, the foot-sized characters painted on it shimmered under the light of the flickering torches.  "The mysterious chamber has been opened. Descendants of the enemy, beware." "What is this - hanging below?" Hermione said with a trembling voice.  They moved slowly, and Harry almost slipped: there was a large puddle of water on the floor.  With a blank expression, Ash held Hermione's hand, then walked towards the words, staring at the black mass below.  That was Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, her tail hanging from the torch barrel, her body as stiff as a board, her eyes wide.  "Should we try to help-" Harry stammered.  Ash comforted Hermione, then walked up and touched the cat gently. After a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief, "It's just petrified!" A few thunderous sounds in the distance told them that the banquet was over.  The sound of footsteps going up the stairs sounded simultaneously from both ends of the corridor where they were.  The well-fed people talked happily and loudly.  After a while, students poured in from both ends.  When everyone saw the hanging cat, the chirping conversations, footsteps, and all other sounds stopped. Ash, Hermione, and Harry stood in the middle of the corridor.  Everyone quietly leaned forward to read the scary words on the wall.  In the silence, a person shouted.  "Descendants of the enemy, be careful! You are the next target, a person of Muggle descent!" Draco Malfoy walked out of the crowd.  His cold eyes were shining, his normally bloodless face turned red, and he grinned as he stared at the hanging cat.  But the next moment he couldn¡¯t laugh anymore, because in front of him, Axi stared at him fiercely.  "What happened? What happened?" There was no doubt that Draco's cry attracted Filch's attention.  Filch shouldered his way through the crowd.  When he saw Mrs. Norris, he stepped back in fright, with a look of horror on his face.  "My cat! My cat! What's wrong with Mrs. Norris?" he screamed.  Then he widened his eyes and turned his attention to Harry?  "You!" he screamed, "It's you! You killed my cat! You killed her! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to-" "Filch!" Dumbledore was standing in front of a group of teachers.  Following him, he has arrived at the scene.  He quickly untied Mrs. Norris.  "Ashborn did it!" At this time, Draco seemed to have the courage, and he said loudly.  "You're lying!" A familiar voice sounded, and Ron appeared again at some point.  "You think I did it?" Ash stared at Draco teasingly. The latter wanted to say something else but Dumbledore spoke up.  "Follow me, Filch," Dumbledore said to Filch.  "Come too, Ash, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Hermione." Lockhart stepped forward, looking particularly enthusiastic.  "My office is closest, principal. - It's upstairs - please use it as you like -" The silent crowd soon dispersed to let them walk up.  Lockhart walked excitedly and self-righteously closely behind Dumbledore, and McGonagall and Professor Snape followed equally hurriedly.  When they walked into Lockhart's dark office, everyone saw portraits everywhere, and some of the curly-haired Lockharts in those portraits were scrambling to avoid the crowd.  The real Lockhart lit the candle on the table, then stood aside.  Dumbledore placed Mrs. Norris on the smooth table and began to examine her.  Harry and Ron sat quietly on chairs next to the candlestick, looking at Dumbledore, exchanging nervous looks from time to time.  Aki held Hermione's hand and sat on the other side.  He had to comfort Hermione, who was still stunned.  Mr. Dumbledore's long, curved nose was only a foot away from Norris' fur.  He was observing her carefully through his half-moon glasses, gently fiddling with her long fingers.  Professor McGonagall was also bent over, squinting her glasses and looking closely.  Snape stood behind them, his body half-blocked and looming, with a strange expression on his face: as if he was trying not to laugh.  Lockhart was among them, putting forward his own views on the problem from time to time.  "It must have been a spell that killed her¡ªperhaps some magical torture. I saw it used many times. It's a pity that I wasn't here just now, otherwise I know of some unspelling method that could have saved her¡ª" Lockhart commented from time to time  Interrupted by Filch's monotonous and painful sobs.  Filch slumped down on the chair by the table, burying his face in his hands, not daring to look at Mrs. Norris.  Dumbledore muttered some strange words to himself while tapping Mrs. Zhu Lisi lightly with his wand, but nothing happened.  He continued to observe, as if by magic.  "I remember similar things happened in other places," Lockhart said, "It was also a series of attacks. I wrote the whole thing in my autobiography. I can provide some evidence to help you put the whole thing together.  Things are clear." In the pictures hanging on the wall, all the Lockharts nodded in agreement with what he said.  "Mrs. Norris is not dead!" Axi finally couldn't bear it and said after listening to Filch's constant crying.  "Not dead yet?" Filch stopped crying and asked in surprise, looking at Mrs. Norris through his fingers, "But why is she completely frozen and cold?" He was counting down the times he had stopped him.  Lockhart, who had been through so many murders, suddenly stopped.
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