Chapter 155: The Suspicion Has Been Temporarily Ruled Out
Lockhart's office.
Under the bright candlelight, Dumbledore placed Madam Norris on the desk and began a careful examination.
"It must have been a curse that killed her," Lockhart said dramatically from the side. "The Transfiguration Torture Curse. I recall something very similar happening before.
It's a pity I wasn't there at the time; I happened to know the counter-curse that could have saved her."
"Can you be quiet for a moment?" Aaron looked speechlessly at Lockhart, wanting to call him a clown, but managed to restrain himself.
"Mr. Gaius." Lockhart's voice was slightly lower than before. "It is documented in detail in my autobiography."
"Can you save Madam Norris?" Aaron asked meaningfully.
"Uh... well..." Lockhart stammered, feeling inexplicably guilty as he looked at the sobbing Filch. "I regret to say that my spells probably cannot save a life that has already died."
"Then please, Professor, be quiet for a moment, and at least don't interfere with the work of professionals."
"She's not dead, Argus," Dumbledore said, looking up. "Madam Norris has only been Petrified, but exactly how she was Petrified, I am not sure."
"Ask him, he did it," Filch cried angrily, looking at Harry Potter. "You all saw the words he wrote on the wall. He knows I'm a Squib."
"A Squib?" Aaron was stunned for a moment, finding it hard to believe. "A Wizard who can't use magic... it must have been very difficult for you to stay at Hogwarts for decades!"
"Mr. Gaius," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Argus has been dedicated to his duties for decades. I dare say no one loves this Castle more than he does."
"I see." Aaron nodded thoughtfully. "But speaking fairly, I don't think Harry did it. When I got there, the three of them were standing dumbfounded, looking like they had been scared witless.
Furthermore, if you'll forgive my bluntness, Harry probably doesn't even know what a Squib is."
Harry nodded hastily. He had only been in school for one year and genuinely didn't understand the meaning of some terms.
Snape emerged from the shadows, a sneer lingering at the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps Potter and his friends merely appeared at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Aaron is a perfect example; he happened to discover them in front of that wall.
Isn't that right, Mr. Potter?"
Harry was momentarily stunned, then exchanged a quick glance with the other two. "That's right, Professor Snape, it was just a misunderstanding."
"Very good. With the three of you as witnesses, I believe Aaron is completely free of suspicion." Snape gave Aaron a reassuring look, then turned to the three students. "Now, can the three of you explain why you weren't in the Great Hallduring dinner?"
The three immediately explained that they had gone to Sir Nicholas's Deathday Party, and hundreds of ghosts could vouch for them.
"You guys... are truly boring." Aaron's eye twitched slightly; he was baffled by their thought process.
Skipping the perfectly good Halloween feast just to attend a ghost's death anniversary—is that something living people do? Aren't you afraid of nightmares?
The three of them exchanged glances, feeling deep regret.
Attending a ghost feast on Halloween Eve, being frightened was one thing, and going hungry was bearable, but they had suffered an undeserved calamity upon returning.
"And after that?" Snape stared directly into Harry's eyes, a cold, sinister smile flashing across his gaunt face. "Why didn't you come to the feast?"
"Because, because..." Harry was extremely nervous. He dared not admit that he had gone there because he heard a strange voice, or his suspicion would never be cleared.
"We were heading back to the Common Room," Hermioneinterjected. "Aaron only ran into us on his way back."
"I was going back to sleep after eating my fill, but you guys..."
"We weren't hungry."
Gurgle!
The moment the words were spoken, Ron's stomach rumbled inappropriately.
He looked up awkwardly, finding everyone staring at him with various expressions, though Hermione's eye-roll was particularly obvious.
It didn't rumble early, didn't rumble late, but chose to rumble just when they were about to slip away unnoticed.
"Fine! I am a little hungry.
But if you had just attended a ghost's Deathday Party, you probably wouldn't be able to eat even the best food put in front of you."
The smile on Snape's face became even more pronounced.
Wasn't this blatant self-betrayal? Did they truly think everyone present was an idiot?
"Principal, I trust you can see it too.
They are not telling the truth; they are definitely hiding something."
"Professor, now that you mention it, I think I recall something as well.
When I first arrived in the corridor, Harry asked me a question."
"Oh?" Snape turned around triumphantly, not expecting this bonus information. "What did he ask you?"
"He asked..."
"Harry asked if there was still pudding at the feast?" Hermione said anxiously.
Aaron rolled his eyes, but seeing the hint of pleading in her eyes, he decided to help them out. After all, he didn't believe these three would commit such an act.
"That's right, Professor."
Snape gave Aaron a helpless look, as if asking: What good does helping them do you?
Aaron responded directly with a look: Not helping them doesn't do me any good either.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, "Innocent until proven guilty."
"But my cat was Petrified!" Filch shouted sharply, dissatisfied. "Someone must be punished."
"We can cure her, Argus.
To my knowledge, Professor Sprout has been cultivating Mandrake, and once they mature, a Potion can be brewed to cure Madam Norris.
In the meantime, I hope everyone proceeds with caution," Dumbledore said, then looked at the four students, "You may go back to rest now."
Hearing this, the four of them tacitly walked out of Lockhart's office.
On the way back to the Common Room, Hermione pursed her lips, looking at Aaron walking ahead, hesitating before saying, "Thank you for covering for us just now."
"You're welcome.
To be blunt, I don't think you three have the guts for it."
"Do you think I should tell them about the voice I heard?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Suit yourself." Aaron waved his hand. "But you'll have to bear the consequences yourself."
"I agree you shouldn't," Ron said. "That's definitely not a good sign."
"It's very strange. You heard that voice, and then Madam Norris was Petrified," Hermione commented.
"That might not be the case, actually," Aaron said thoughtfully. "Perhaps that voice deliberately lured Harrythere!"
Hearing this, Harry nervously swallowed. "Are you saying I'm being targeted?"
"I didn't say that. It's just a simple guess," Aaron said, turning towards a side passage. "Good night, everyone."
The three exchanged glances. Harry said miserably, "Maybe I should just tell Dumbledore about the voice! At least that would be safer."
"No," Hermione frowned. "The three of us are already semi-suspects. If they knew you could hear strange voices, it would be difficult not to be wrongly accused."
...Back in the Dormitory, Aaron lay on his bed, staring slightly blankly at the ceiling.
"System, you can open the Mission Panel now."
[Find the legendary Chamber of Secrets:
Reward for completing the mission is 800 magic points. There is no penalty for mission failure. Does the Hostaccept?]
Seeing the reward amount, Aaron immediately thought of the Thought-Form Magic he had been longing for. Based on normal sign-in accumulation, he would have to work hard for more than a hundred days to learn this skill.
But completing the mission meant eighty fewer days of effort—the temptation was too great.
Aaron gritted his teeth and chose to accept the challenge.
The reward for this mission was substantial, but it wouldn't be easy.
Firstly, the legend of the Chamber of Secrets existed at least since Lucius's era. The older the tale, the harder it was to find.
Secondly, the bloody writing on the wall and the Petrified Madam Norris both indicated danger, and he knew he couldn't withstand that level of Petrificus Totalus.
However, there was no reason for him not to accept this mission, as it concerned the safety of Hogwarts, which was his haven for stable development; nothing could go wrong here.
Most importantly, there was no penalty for failure. If things became impossible, he could completely withdraw in time.
"System, if I may ask, are the missions you assign random?"
"Yes."
"But weren't three missions assigned last school year?" Aaron asked, puzzled. "Why is there only one this year?"
"This System assigns missions based on actual circumstances. Considering what the Host has currently been exposed to, only this one mission can be assigned."
"That's truly... reasonable." Aaron was speechless. "Wait, if I cause trouble everywhere, will I trigger more Systemmissions?"
"It is advised that the Host does not do that. Causing trouble leads to a quick death."
"Hey! Don't make it sound so scary. I'm not that kind of person.
I was just asking casually."
"You are overthinking it.
With the Host's current authority level, there will only be three missions per year—no more, but possibly fewer.
Furthermore, the missions assigned by this System are entirely within the Host's capability; they will not be too easy, nor too difficult. Also, the Host has ample autonomy to choose, and can abandon highly dangerous missions, which is already quite user-friendly.
Therefore... do not try to exploit the System."