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Chapter 94 Filch and the Cat
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 11:56:09 +0000 UTCSpiders only choose to migrate when their lives are threatened. In the magical world, such behavior becomes even more unpredictable.
In this world of magic, the unknown—mysterious and elusive—is rarely a good sign.
The unknown often signifies danger. Yet, ironically, it is the pursuit of the unknown that defines a true wizard.
This contradiction lies at the very heart of wizardry. It’s what grants wizards their fearsome reputation. Even legendary beings, including gods of old, are reluctant to provoke them—for wizards do not fear danger. Not even the threat of death can deter their curiosity.
Crouching low, Harry Potter carefully examined the spiders. Though the sight made his skin crawl, he pushed his discomfort aside.
His actions made Ron Weasley’s scalp tingle. Of all things, Ron loathed spiders the most.
“Bloody hell, what’s Harry doing?” Ron muttered, swallowing nervously.
“Can’t you tell? He’s observing the spider species,” said Hermione Granger, blunt as ever. “Ron, your observational skills are still as dull as ever.”
Ron dared not argue. In fact, he rarely spoke back to Hermione these days. It wasn't just her—he avoided contradicting any member of the League of Mages, especially after the past few months had proven how right they often were.
He had no desire to argue anymore. After three months with the Alliance, his magical ability had nearly caught up with his older brother’s. His knowledge had grown too—he no longer thought like a first-year student.
Once, he might’ve refused to apologize to Hermione out of stubborn pride, or even accused Noah and the others of dabbling in dark magic behind their backs.
Now? He wouldn’t dare.
The gap between them was too vast. He didn’t even mind that he was used as an experimental subject now and then. In fact, he felt lucky—he had been given a rare opportunity.
For most wizards, increasing magical power takes years of dedicated training. But with the League of Mages, that journey had accelerated. He now believed he could truly become a powerful wizard.
As Ron pondered, Harry stood up, frowning. “These spiders aren’t ordinary. They’re diverse in type, but… they seem to belong to the same family.”
“Of course. If they weren’t related, they’d have been fighting each other already,” Evan chuckled, then added, “They have multiple eyes—seems like they’re descendants of Acromantulas.”
“Oh? That reminds me of something from Hogwarts: A History,” Kenn chimed in. “Didn’t someone get expelled for raising a spider like that after a girl was killed?”
“Who would raise a spider like that?” Ron shuddered at the very thought.
“You don’t remember? The one who raised the spider over a decade ago was your friend Hagrid,” said Noah, patting Ron on the shoulder. “He was blamed for the incident and banned from using magic. Though, I bet he still has a wand stashed somewhere.”
Noah then turned to Harry. “Alright, enough spider-watching. Do you remember the direction of that sound?”
Harry nodded. “It came from that way.” He pointed toward a dim corridor.
“Good. Wands out—stay alert. We might find something else.”
Noah led the group forward. If nothing went wrong, they would soon find a petrified cat hanging from a lamppost and a message scrawled in blood nearby.
Cliché? Perhaps. But in the wizarding world, such scenes were far from fiction.
As they advanced, Hannah Abbott, who had her head down, noticed a reflection in a puddle. “Hey… look. On the wall!”
“What is that?”
Kenn and the others looked up—and froze.
Written in blood on the stone wall was a chilling message:
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware!
A wave of unease swept through the group. When they turned to Noah for a response, they saw him walking toward a nearby lamppost.
There, hanging lifelessly, was a petrified cat—Mrs. Norris.
“Bloody hell—isn’t that Filch’s cat?” Hermione gasped, recognizing her instantly.
Everyone looked grave. Before they could speak further, they noticed students from other houses approaching.
It hit them: this was a thoroughfare. Whoever wrote that message wanted it seen.
The gathering crowd fell into hushed murmurs. Most students looked alarmed—except for a few Slytherins, who wore odd, unreadable expressions.
Draco Malfoy stared at the blood-red words with thinly veiled satisfaction. He looked like he wanted to read them aloud.
But when he noticed Noah standing near the petrified cat, his smirk faded. Fear crept into his expression, and he fell silent.
Suddenly, a loud voice barked from the back of the crowd. “Move aside! Out of the way!”
Everyone made room for the man forcing his way forward: Argus Filch.
Noah glanced at the grumpy caretaker and quickly lost interest. Filch, a Squib, had never impressed him.
He’d met Squibs before—some became competent Exorcists or potion masters. But Filch? He’d chosen to linger at Hogwarts, bitter and powerless, clinging to a dream of restoring his magic… or perhaps out of spite, to make life miserable for young wizards.
He delighted in punishing students. No one liked him—not even Noah.
So Noah ignored him and turned his focus back to the cat. It was his first time seeing a creature petrified by a magical beast, and he was curious to learn how that magic differed from standard spells.
But before he could study further, a guttural scream echoed behind him:
“Mrs. Norris?! NO! You filthy brat—you killed her! I’ll kill you for this!”
Noah blinked, startled. Then he realized he might be standing in just the wrong place at the wrong time...
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