Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 296: The Lost Diary

The next day, Filch still hadn’t been seen around the castle.

During dinner, Kyle deliberately sought out Harry to find out what had happened in Lockhart’s office the day before.

“You mustn’t tell anyone else,” Harry said, glancing around and lowering his voice. “Professor Dumbledore doesn’t want too many people to know about this.”

“Filch was turned to stone because of some kind of advanced dark magic.”

“So even Madam Pomfrey couldn’t cure him?” Kyle asked, frowning.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Madam Pomfrey poured several bottles of potion over him and even dunked him in a barrel full of magical potions, but nothing worked.”

Harry hesitated before continuing. “But Lockhart said he had an idea. He claimed he encountered something similar in a place called Vagah…something. No, I can’t remember the name. Anyway, he said he used various amulets to help people solve the problem there.”

“But I think he was bragging,” Ron said with conviction from next to him. “Remember? He said the same thing when we were on the third floor, but the place names were completely different.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Hermione retorted. “What if he encountered it twice?”

“Hermione, do you actually believe all that stuff he says?” Ron frowned in disapproval. “He can’t even handle House-elves.”

“Ron…” Kyle quickly jumped in, noticing the two of them on the verge of arguing. He changed the subject. “Did you find your pet?”

“Oh, you mean Scabbers. Yeah, I found him.” Ron pulled the plump rat out of his pocket. “Guess what? He never ran outside at all! Turns out he was under the cabinet in the common room the whole time. He probably hadn’t eaten in ages, though—he looked a bit out of it.”

“It’s okay, I have some rat tonic here.” Kyle took out a small bottle filled with red liquid and handed it to Ron.

“Thanks, Kyle!” Ron accepted it eagerly. Kyle had given him a bottle of the same rat tonic last year, and it had worked wonders. Every time Scabbers drank it, he seemed to perk right up…though the bottle was small, and Ron had run out long ago, too embarrassed to ask for more.

“You’re welcome. I should be thanking you for satisfying my curiosity.” Kyle waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a bottle of rat tonic; no big deal. Just come find me when you need more.”

Then he turned to Harry again.

“Potter…”

“Just call me Harry.”

“Alright, Harry.” Kyle lowered his voice. “Have you heard any strange noises lately?”

“Strange noises? What do you mean?”

Kyle clarified, “I mean whispers that only you can hear, but no one else does.”

Harry scratched his head, thinking hard. “No. I only heard letters talking when I was helping Lockhart answer his fan mail. But Lockhart heard it too—he said it was a special way of replying that saves reading time, and apparently, loads of his admirers use it.”

“So it wasn’t any kind of strange whispering…was it.” Kyle nodded, understanding.

From this, he gathered that Harry probably hadn’t heard the Basilisk’s voice.

However, the issue of petrification—which even Dumbledore couldn’t solve—was probably related to the Basilisk. And then there was the unexplained disappearance of the diary... As these problems mounted, Kyle felt increasingly overwhelmed. He still hadn’t figured out how the diary could have gone missing.

Kyle had briefly considered Ron’s rat, Scabbers, who was really Peter Pettigrew in disguise... but that seemed unlikely. Peter was hiding as a pet rat, and even Ron had no idea he held a Horcrux in his possession, so it was improbable Peter would know either. Even if Peter did somehow know about it, Kyle was always careful. The Mokeskin pouch that held the suitcase never left his side, and even at night, Ratton stayed by his pillow. How could a rat sneak in, steal something so significant, and leave no trace?

It wasn’t that Kyle underestimated Peter’s abilities, but if Pettigrew really had that level of skill, he wouldn’t have stayed hidden as a pet rat with the Weasleys for over a decade.

Kyle also considered the possibility of a Time-Turner... but his applications had been rejected by the Department of Mysteries twice already. Even Dumbledore hadn’t been able to borrow one, let alone him. Besides, why would he—or anyone else—go back in time just to steal his own belongings? And who had released the Basilisk that petrified Filch—was it him, or was it Riddle?

Kyle’s head was spinning with questions.

Meanwhile, Harry and the others noticed Kyle had grown uncharacteristically quiet, sitting still and lost in thought. If not for the occasional change in his expression and the way his hand absently cut his steak, they might have thought he’d been petrified, too.

Ron reached out to nudge Kyle’s arm, but Hermione stopped him.

“Ron, Kyle’s thinking about something. Don’t interrupt him,” she whispered.

“Alright,” Ron muttered, unbothered. Instead, he stretched across the table to grab two more drumsticks.

About ten minutes later, Kyle finally seemed to snap out of it, sighing deeply as he rubbed his forehead, deciding to let it go for now.

“What were you thinking about?” Harry asked curiously.

“What kind of dark magic could have done that to Filch,” Kyle replied casually.

Harry’s curiosity was piqued. “Did you think of anything?”

“Not really,” Kyle shrugged. “The Petrification Charm came to mind, but Dumbledore would’ve easily been able to counter that.”

“Oh... I see.” Harry looked a little disappointed.

“So, why were you on the third floor?” Kyle asked suddenly, just as he took another bite of steak. “Were you heading straight back to Gryffindor Tower? I thought you’d have gone to the Great Hall to grab something to eat first.”

“We only ended up there after chasing Moaning Myrtle,” Harry explained with a sigh. “We accidentally said something in the Dungeon that upset her, and she started following us, so we tried to catch up and explain.”

“And that’s when we ran into petrified Filch and that bloody cat,” Ron added, gingerly touching a small cut on his face. “That cat’s been tailing us ever since we left the Dungeon. When we got to the third floor, she must’ve thought we were responsible for Filch’s petrification and scratched me good.”

“If you ask me, I should’ve just used my wand right then…”

“Ron, we can’t do that,” Harry said seriously. “Running into a petrified Filch was bad enough—if we’d hurt Mrs. Norris, we’d never be able to explain it.”

“I know…” Ron muttered under his breath. “But why do we have to put up with all this? That cat really hurt when it scratched me!”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed, glancing at his own arm, where there were faint, light scratches.

He and Hermione had been a bit luckier, managing to escape with only minor scrapes. Madam Pomfrey had applied a healing ointment on them in Lockhart’s office, which stopped the bleeding immediately. By the time they’d woken up that morning, the scratches were almost healed, and by tomorrow, they would probably be completely gone.