"I cannot think what could have done this to her." For once, Dumbledore's face bore no smile as he looked gravely at Mrs. Norris on the large desk.
As he spoke, he took out his wand as well.
It was Harry's first time seeing Dumbledore's wand. How should he put it? It looked truly peculiar, with a series of segments and many tiny, closely spaced holes.
A trypophobe's worst nightmare?
Dumbledore lightly tapped Mrs. Norris with his wand. Just as when Professor McGonagall had tried earlier, there was no response at all.
"It was him. He did it. Ask him!" Filch's eyes were bloodshot, his gaunt face twitching constantly as he pointed a rough, slender finger at Harry-or rather, Ron beside him.
"Me?" Ron pointed at his own nose in disbelief, unable to understand why it would be him.
Wasn't Harry normally supposed to be the one people suspected in situations like this?
Huh? Everyone's looking at me. Why does this suddenly feel kind of good?
Harry and Hermione were momentarily stunned too. Clearly, neither had expected Filch to point at Ron.
"A second-year student could not have done this, Argus." Dumbledore shook his head slightly, but his tone was firm. "It would take exceptionally advanced Dark Magic..."
"He did it! He did it!" Filch interrupted Dumbledore with a somewhat crazed roar, staring fixedly at Ron with bloodshot eyes.
"You saw what he wrote on the wall. He... he found out, in my office... he knows, he knows now, I... I'm a Squib..."
Saying that final word seemed to drain Filch of all his strength. His whole body sagged like a deflated ball, but his eyes remained fixed on Ron, filled with venom.
Harry did know what a Squib was. He had happened to come across the term while learning