Chapter 71: "Dumbledore, Are You Teaching Me How to Do Things?"

With Professor Snape testifying, Filch had no choice but to shut his mouth.

Just then, Dumbledore emerged from the hall.

The first thing he did was wave his wand, gently lowering Mrs. Norris from the wall. After carefully examining her with a series of spells, he looked up and said, “Rest assured, Argus. Mrs. Norris isn’t dead—she’s been petrified. It’s an advanced form of dark magic, one that even I cannot easily counter.”

“This also proves Harry’s innocence,” Dumbledore added. “A first-year student couldn’t possibly have access to such magic.”

“My cat! My poor cat!” Filch’s face twisted with rage. “Someone must pay for this!”

“But that doesn’t mean an innocent person should bear the cost, Argus,” Dumbledore said gravely. Then, turning to Harry, he continued, “That said, Harry, you must still face consequences for your actions. Next Thursday evening, you’ll accompany Hagrid on patrol in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Since Professor Snape has already deducted points from Gryffindor, I won’t impose further punishment,” Dumbledore added.

“Yes, Headmaster,” Harry replied, standing tall. Then, with quiet conviction, he added, “But I still believe I did nothing wrong.”

The students exchanged stunned glances, their expressions shifting from shock to admiration. Who would have thought that after knocking down a staff member, Harry would refuse to admit fault—even before the Headmaster?

Any other student would have tucked their tail between their legs and confessed by now.

But not Harry. He stood his ground and openly declared his innocence.

That wasn’t just courage—it was sheer audacity.

“Oh, of course not,” Dumbledore said, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. “Harry, your mistake was casting a spell on someone in front of witnesses.”

Harry met the old Headmaster’s gaze, catching the subtle lesson behind his words.

“I do admit to that,” Harry nodded.

The implication was clear: if no one saw it, it didn’t count as a mistake.

“Well then, prefects, take your students back. It’s getting late,” Dumbledore instructed.

With this unexpected turn of events, Harry and his friends decided to postpone their planned visit to the Room of Requirement.

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After all, Gryffindor had just lost fifty points, and Harry had publicly confronted Filch. A nighttime stroll seemed unwise—who knew if Professor Snape was lurking nearby, waiting to deduct even more points?

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry braced himself for an onslaught of criticism. Surely, losing fifty points would earn him some backlash.

But to his surprise, he was greeted like a hero.

Was he imagining things, or were there even a few Hufflepuffs mingling in the Gryffindor common room?

“Harry, you’re the man!” Lee Jordan exclaimed, his bright grin standing out against his dark skin.

Harry was puzzled. He glanced at Hermione, who was clapping for him, then at his cheering classmates. “Didn’t I just lose fifty points for Gryffindor? Why are you all…”

“Lose points?” the Weasley twins chorused. “Harry, mate, getting Snape to award Gryffindor three points is something we can brag about for life!”

“I agree,” Percy said, straightening his posture and clapping for Harry. “Though, I must point out, Harry, there were better ways to handle the situation—”

“Oh, Percy, don’t spoil the fun,” the twins interrupted, rolling their eyes in unison.

Their words were met with enthusiastic agreement from the Gryffindors, and even a few nods from the Hufflepuffs.

“We brought butterbeer and cookies!” announced a tall, handsome Hufflepuff boy. “Let’s throw a party to celebrate Harry for standing up to Filch!”

It was Cedric Diggory. Harry recognized him.

“Yeah!” the students cheered.

“I’ve got some Muggle snacks,” Harry offered. “Everyone can share.”

“I’ll help!” Ron volunteered eagerly.

Before long, Ron returned—dragging Harry’s entire suitcase.

Harry’s eye twitched.

Nice one, Ron. Are you planning to empty my entire stash?

But he didn’t stop him. Opportunities to bond with classmates like this were rare.

“For our Lion King!” Fred Weasley stood on a stool, raising his voice.

“Potter! Potter! Potter!” the crowd chanted.

“I don’t get it,” Hermione said amidst the noise, turning to upperclassman Angelina Johnson. “Why is everyone so happy? It’s as if Gryffindor didn’t just lose points.”

“Losing points is disappointing, sure,” Angelina replied, cracking open a can of soda. “But seeing Filch get what he deserves? That’s something to celebrate! You know, when I was a first-year, he threatened to string me up by my ankles for some minor infraction!”

“Same here!”

“Me too!”

“And me!”

The surrounding students eagerly shared their grievances, their faces filled with frustration toward Filch.

“His cat is just as bad as he is,” one student complained. “She’s worse than a bloodhound. I can’t stand either of them, not even a little!”

“Still,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “Dumbledore assigned Harry detention in the Forbidden Forest. At the start of term, he warned us how dangerous it was. Do you think Harry might be in danger?”

“Danger?” Angelina paused mid-sip, looking puzzled. “Wait, hold on—how does this… work?”

“I’ll show you.” Hermione popped open the soda for her with a click and handed it back.

“Delicious!” Angelina grinned in satisfaction.

She set the soda down and, in an exaggerated tone, said to Hermione, “Oh, Hermione, how could you even think that? Our Savior has already proven his strength. What you should be worried about isn’t whether Harry is in danger, but…”

“Whether the Forbidden Forest is in danger,” Alicia Spinnet finished with a grin.

Despite their reassurances, Hermione couldn’t shake her unease.

Harry was just a first-year student. Could Hagrid really protect him from the dangers lurking in the Forbidden Forest?

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