037. He Was the One Who Helped Me Pick the Lock

Scott stood at the top of the stairs, calmly watching the farce unfold in the Common Room below.

Eddie muttered beside him, "Roger looks pretty miserable, but for some reason, I don't feel the least bit sorry for him."

"He shouldn't have played games with Miss Turpin in the first place," Milton said in his usual tone. "Love should be something romantic and beautiful. We shouldn't treat it like a game or joke about it."

Scott didn't offer an opinion like his two roommates. He just thought Lisa Turpin's story still had plenty of holes, and Roger seemed to have gone completely stupid—he'd been talking to her for so long and still hadn't gotten to the point.

But he had no intention of going down to help, either. Lisa Turpin clearly wasn't easy to deal with, and he always steered clear of this kind of trouble.

So it was all up to Roger.

Fortunately, Roger wasn't actually stupid. The sudden public humiliation had simply hit him hard, and his eagerness to prove his innocence had made him a little too impatient.

Now he seemed to have suddenly come to his senses. He asked Turpin again, "Lisa, tell me. If you misunderstood me, why didn't you come and ask me about it back then?"

He stared into Turpin's eyes. "Why now, after I've already had two girlfriends?"

"Listen to him: 'I've already had two girlfriends.' That's just asking for a punch," Eddie muttered to Scott and Milton again.

Of course, he wasn't the only boy among the students present muttering something like that.

Scott ignored Eddie's mutter, which was tinged with envy. He noticed that Lisa Turpin had lowered her head again. She was avoiding Roger's gaze and acting as if she refused to talk.

"I don't think you felt this way last school year, Lisa," Roger said, his tone growing even gentler, as if he were afraid of frightening her. "Did someone say something to you that changed your mind?"

Lisa Turpin only shook her head. It seemed she had no intention of answering.

Roger looked at her helplessly. "All right, you don't want to say. Then can you at least tell me where you got the Dark Arts object you used to curse my broom?"

Lisa Turpin kept her head down, her face hidden beneath her disheveled hair. She seemed determined to counter Roger's questions with silence.

Roger ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He got up, paced a few steps, then stopped in front of Turpin and spoke again. "You don't want to say, is that it, Lisa? Then tell me this: when you went into our dormitory to curse that wretched broom of mine, who helped you pick the lock?"

As Roger asked one question after another, the Common Room fell quiet again.

Ravenclaw was never short of clever people. Most of the students had already realized from Roger's questions that there was more to the incident than met the eye.

They put away their amused expressions and grew serious.

Lisa Turpin still didn't say a word. She crouched on the floor, curled into a ball and shook her head over and over, looking utterly pitiful.

Roger looked down at the tears dripping onto the carpet at her feet. For a moment, he didn't know whether he should keep asking.

He turned around, spread his hands in a helpless gesture, and looked toward Professor Flitwick and the others at the top of the stairs.

Professor Flitwick had been silent for quite some time.

As Roger and Turpin talked, he had seemed distracted, as though everything happening before him had shaken him deeply.

If Professor Flitwick had been a more practical man, he would have quickly realized that now that he could no longer cover for Lisa Turpin, making the right choice was actually easy.

There was no other option.

And Professor Flitwick was a clever wizard. He couldn't have failed to realize that. Yet he still hesitated.

But perhaps that was one of the things that made the professor admirable, Scott thought. He couldn't bring himself to do the same, but that didn't stop him from appreciating other people's kindness.

When Roger turned to look at him, however, Professor Flitwick seemed to have finally emerged from his inner conflict and made up his mind.

And once he had, Professor Flitwick acted decisively.

He walked down the stairs and approached Lisa Turpin.

"Miss Turpin." Professor Flitwick's voice was low, nothing like its usual shrillness.

At the sound of Professor Flitwick's voice, Turpin gave a little shudder, but she still didn't look up.

Professor Flitwick paced in place. "Possessing a Dark Arts object and secretly placing a vicious curse on a classmate's broom are both illegal acts."

He said sadly, "You should be grateful you still have a chance, Miss Turpin. Roger didn't even intend to expose you at first. He thought you were too young. You should thank him for that."

"All the Ravenclaw students are here now." Professor Flitwick looked at the others. "Can anyone tell me what punishment Miss Turpin might face if the Department of Magical Law Enforcement learned of this?"

"I know, Professor."

A seventh-year boy stepped forward and said in a very calm, reasonable voice, "Since Miss Turpin's actions caused no actual harm to the victim, the most likely outcome would be about three months in Azkaban and a fine of 200 Galleons."

At that, Lisa Turpin suddenly looked up, staring at the seventh-year boy in disbelief.

The boy adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose and said to Turpin, "Of course, if you voluntarily increase the fine to 1,000 Galleons, there's a good chance you could avoid going to Azkaban."

"Thank you for your answer, Mr. Brown." Professor Flitwick nodded to him, signaling for him to sit down.

Before sitting, Brown added to Turpin, "My name is William Brown. By the way, the deal I mentioned—1,000 Galleons in exchange for your freedom—comes with one condition: you have to hire me as your defense attorney."

"No..."

Lisa Turpin had finally grown afraid.

She screamed, "No, I'm not going to be locked up in Azkaban!"

Brown shrugged and sat down without responding to Turpin's cries.

Professor Flitwick, however, said to Turpin, "I told you that you still have a chance, Miss Turpin. Remember, if you can prove that you weren't the main person responsible for what happened, there may still be a way out."

"I... I..."

Turpin's face went deathly pale. Without thinking, she turned toward a corner of the Common Room, her gaze fixing on Jacob.

"It was Jacob! He was the one who helped me pick the lock!" she shouted.