Hogwarts Lion Girl

Filch's eyes were full of rage and madness, his hands tightly grasped Harry's collar, as if he wanted to swallow him whole. His breathing was heavy and rapid, every blood vessel on his face seemed to be throbbing, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

"You must pay for this!" he roared, his face distorted to the point of being almost unrecognizable.

Harry struggled hard, trying to free himself from Filch's iron grip.

His eyes were filled with determination, and even though his body was held tightly, his voice was extremely firm, "This is not me, I didn't do it, let me go!"

The air around them was frozen with tension and fear. Other students and teachers began to gather to watch this sudden incident, with discussions and exclamations rising one after another.

In such a depressing atmosphere, Headmaster Dumbledore walked over with a calm but firm expression on his face.

"Filch, let go." His voice was calm and majestic, as if it could dispel the chaos around him. "We need to calm down. Violence cannot solve the problem. Let's investigate the truth of this matter together."

Filch was instantly intimidated by Dumbledore's majesty. He hesitantly let go of his hand and took a few steps back.

There was still distrust and anger in his eyes, but under Dumbledore's gaze, he chose to back off temporarily.

Harry adjusted his clothes, took a deep breath, and thanked Dumbledore for his timely appearance.

Dumbledore untied Mrs. Norris from the torch stand and said to Filch, "Come with me, Filch. And the rest of you." His voice was calm but firm.

Harry and the others looked at each other, but still followed Dumbledore obediently.

In the dim firelight, everyone's eyes followed Dumbledore and his group as they walked away, and the whispers of discussion gradually became louder.

Led by Dumbledore, a group of people with complicated emotions began to enter his office full of strange magical objects and books.

Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall followed closely behind, their faces showing unreadable expressions, enough to make people feel the seriousness of the incident.

After carefully examining Mrs. Norris, Dumbledore asked Harry and the others about the situation at that time. Then, under Filch's unwilling gaze, he let Harry and the others leave the office.

Harry's palms were sweaty, Ron was holding on to the handrail of the stairs tightly, Hermione's breathing became increasingly rapid, and the stairs creaked rapidly with every step they took as they ascended.

Through a row of double-rowed porches, bronze torches flickered beside the armor of knights with bulging eyes.

They looked at each other, communicated silently, and then went into an empty classroom with the door ajar.

Harry closed the door quietly, and the four of them leaned against it. The room was dim and quiet, and they could almost hear their breathing.

Salina's eyes seemed particularly lively after the dazzling light of the candle disappeared. Through the faint light from the sky, she squinted her eyes, trying to recognize several figures standing silently in a row with her in the dim light.

The dark outline became increasingly blurred under her slightly raised brows, and one could only vaguely make out the outline of their hair and the difference in height.

Although not very bright, there was still an imperceptible light flickering in her eyes, like planted stars, unaffected by the surrounding darkness.

Moonlight shone through the ancient window lattice. Harry's eyes were wandering and hesitant. "What do you think? Should I tell the professors about the voice I heard?"

Hermione's brows furrowed. "But, if we get this wrong and tell the professors the wrong information, wouldn't that be worse?"

Harry rubbed his lightning-shaped scar, and a sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

Harry knew that his scar never hurt without reason, and every time it hurt, it was a sign of approaching danger.

Salina comforted him, "Anyway, it's getting late today. Maybe we should go back and have a good rest."

……

For several days, Filch had not left the stone wall with the words on it.

The place where Mrs. Norris was killed became the center of his anxiety, and anxiety and helplessness were revealed under his gray eyebrows. He paced back and forth in front of and behind the wall as if cursed, and tried to wipe off the stubborn words with trembling hands from time to time.

In his hand, the worn plastic bottle of Mrs. Skoll's All-Purpose Magic Stain Remover was like his last hope.

He hoped to use it to wash the branded words off the stone wall, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, the words remained on the wall like magic, mercilessly mocking his useless attempts.

Filch wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, knowing that this was just a futile effort day and night.

He knew that there was some kind of dark magic power hidden behind these words, which might not be solved by simple cleaning agents, but he still refused to give up.

Until the moon climbed up into the night sky, casting its cold silver light, the words that shone with ominous light were still on the stone wall, as if they had already become part of the castle's stone wall.

Filch sighed helplessly and left dejectedly, leaving behind only a pile of empty bottles and traces of scrubbing on the ground as evidence of his failed attempt.

The originally mottled wall became even more mottled, with dried marks and damp flow marks complementing each other, like a crude abstract painting.

Filch began to hide in dark corners, lurking quietly like a spider, catching every unsuspecting prey with his suffocating gaze. His eyes were sunken and deep, and those who were stared at by them would feel an invisible pressure, as if all their secrets had nowhere to hide.

Whenever a little wizard walked past his hiding place, he would gently move his body and adjust his position to ensure that no one could escape his judgment.

After being targeted by Filch for no reason again, Ron clenched his fists in anger, and the veins on his forehead were faintly visible.

While cursing the annoying Filch, he imagined the smug look on the perpetrator's face.

Every time he thought of the pranks played by those Slytherin guys, his teeth would chatter.

"That Filch guy must pay the price." Ron whispered to himself, "I hope the heir petrifies Filch as well."

Ginny's face suddenly turned pale when she heard this. She nervously pinched the hem of her robe, with deep worry in her eyes.

Her panicked look made Salina instantly feel that something was wrong. Ron also noticed it, but he thought it was his words that scared his sister.

So Ron hastened to add gently, "It was a joke, Ginny. I'm just a little annoyed with him. You know, he's been acting more and more abnormal lately."

Ginny seemed to be relieved. She turned her head away and pretended to be angry and scolded: "Brother, can't you stop scaring people all the time?"

Ginny, who still has some baby fat, has puffy cheeks when she's angry, and they look chubby and seem to be very easy to pinch.

Salina couldn't help but stretch out her hand and pinch it. It was as soft and sticky as expected, and the feel was indeed very good.

Ginny was stunned for a moment, her face flushed red, and she immediately ran away with the book in her arms, at a loss.

These days, Ginny looked worried, with a frown on her face, and seemed a little uneasy.

Whenever she walked through an empty corridor or stopped what she was doing, she would reveal that worried look.

At such times, Salina would stare at her until she blushed and could no longer think about anything else.

Although it was to ease Ginny's mood, her rosy cheeks were really nice to pinch, soft like jelly and bouncy.

Later, after it happened so many times, Ginny started to show off. When her face was pinched, she would lazily lean on Serena's arm and clear her mind.