Unlike the three professors, Filch, who was still cradling the petrified Mrs. Norris, let out a sharp, ragged shriek the mont he saw the writing on the wall.
He scrambled backward, diving behind Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall until only the top of his head was visible.
"Dumbledore! Do you see? The Heir! The Heir of Slytherin!" Filch hissed, his eyes darting frantically from the wall back to Kane.
In the era of the Four Founders, the divisions between the houses weren't as rigid as they were now. To Filch's frantic mind, there was no reason the Heir of Slytherin couldn't be a Gryffindor.
"Please, calm yourself," Dumbledore said, his brow furrowing. "Right now, you're giving the impression of soone who, unable to find the true culprit who hard Mrs. Norris, is angrily and cowardly turning his spear toward an innocent child."
"Exactly. I don't even have a grudge against you," Kane said, rolling his eyes. If anything, the grudge should have been on Filch's side—after all, last year Kane had nearly turned Filch into a snack for a three-headed dog.
Wait, Kane realized. Is that why this old man keeps treating like his personal nesis?
"I can't help it, Professor Dumbledore! From the first mont I saw him, I knew this little wizard... he's no good!" Filch spat.
"Oh, sure, sure. I'm 'no good,'" Kane drawled. "But if I were really the Heir of Slytherin, I wouldn't bother hurting Mrs. Norris. That cat has more active magic in her fur than you have in your entire body. If I wanted to hurt soone, I'd go for you."
Kane ant it as a sarcastic jab, but Filch took it as a confession. His face contorted with a mix of terror and triumph as he pointed a trembling finger from behind Dumbledore. "Look, Dumbledore! He admitted it!"
Exasperated by Filch's stupidity—or perhaps just tired of being his favorite target—Kane snapped. He whipped his wand out of his pocket and pointed it directly at the space between Dumbledore's shoulder and Filch's nose.
"Yeah! I admit it! How about I just kill you right now and get it over with?"
Instantly, Snape and McGonagall drew their wands. They weren't necessarily targeting Kane; they were protecting Filch.
As the two professors who, alongside Dumbledore, had known Kane the longest, they genuinely believed he was capable of making Filch disappear right under the Headmaster's nose.
They were truly afraid that after decades of bullying students, Filch's "streak" was about to end with a permanent cancellation of his life insurance.
Filch, who had been shouting so bravely a mont ago, tucked his thin, hunched fra entirely behind Dumbledore's robes, holding his breath so hard he turned purple.
"Old fossil," Kane muttered under his breath.
"Ahem. Allow to ask, Kane—who exactly are you referring to?" Dumbledore asked. He didn't enjoy Filch clutching his robes and rubbing that peculiar scent of decay into the fabric, but for the sake of getting the man out of the hallway in one piece, he had to de-escalate.
"Both of you are... well, the one behind you is old, but he isn't a 'good' anything. Never mind," Kane said, slowly pocketing his wand.
"Aha! I am glad you retracted that hurtful statent. Now, Filch, since Kane has offered a... gesture, perhaps you should return the favor?"
"Actually, I didn't retract it," Kane added helpfully, giving Dumbledore zero face.
"I see. Quite reasonable," Dumbledore nodded, then stepped aside to reveal Filch. "Then, Filch, let the apology start with you."
Filch, having just seen his life flash before his eyes, was suddenly much more cooperative, though no less resentful.
His face flushed—perhaps out of the embarrassnt of a middle-aged man apologizing to a twelve-year-old—but under Dumbledore's watchful gaze, he muttered, "Sorry."
Kane sneered at the half-hearted apology. "Don't bother. I don't know what face you think you're losing by apologizing to ; it's not like you have any dignity left to lose anyway."
"Does a seventy-year-old Squib with one foot in the grave really think he has sothing to be proud of? The only difference between you, Mrs. Norris, and a house-elf is that the latter two can actually use magic.
Instead of worrying about why your cat turned to stone, maybe you should consider the fastest way out of Hogwarts. It might be the only way you keep your life."
Dumbledore, seeing the verbal daggers Kane was burying in Filch's chest, quickly stepped back in front of the caretaker.
It seed Kane didn't need a wand to do maximum damage; if he kept talking, Filch might actually try to attack the lawn from a twenty-five-ter height.
"Kane, that's enough," Dumbledore said gently.
"Hmph," Kane crossed his arms.
"Professor Dumbledore, I..." Filch's face was a mask of agony.
"Take Mrs. Norris to the infirmary and get so sleep. I'll have the house-elves prepare a glass of warm milk for you." Dumbledore pulled out his wand and cast a concealnt charm over the wall.
It would prevent a panic while allowing the staff to investigate the site later. "As for you two, return to your tower. And... keep this a secret."
Kane and Neville nodded. Whether it was a prank or the actual Chamber of Secrets, it was better kept quiet for now.
On the way back, Kane bumped into Gilderoy Lockhart near his office.
"Oh? Kane? And Mr. Longbottom? It's past curfew, surely. Shall I escort you back? That way, you needn't fear Filch."
Kane shook his head. "I don't think Filch wants to see right now."
Lockhart, a writer of many years, imdiately slled a story. He opened his door and gestured inside. "I think you'd enjoy a late-night snack. Why don't you tell what happened with our dear caretaker?"
Kane was in the mood to vent, so he looked at Neville. "Want to co?"
Neville shook his head. "Harry and the others are still looking for . I should go back to the tower so they don't worry."
"Good point. Tell them I'm with Professor Lockhart."
Kane spent the next hour unloading his frustrations on Lockhart, who listened like a sympathetic friend and joined in the creative insults against Filch.
When Kane finally felt better, he left the office with a pocket full of snacks.
Once alone, Lockhart stroked his chin and pulled out that ink-black diary. He began to write.
In the middle of the blank page, ink slowly blood: "So, that little wizard I felt earlier... that's the one you call a 'teacher'? I find it hard to believe you'd look up to a child."
"What's so strange about that?" Lockhart wrote back. "You might be older, but this mory of yours hasn't even graduated yet. I've learned a thing or two from you, haven't I?"
"Just so basic charms. If you'd paid attention in school, you'd know them. But tell about this 'Filch.' He sounds... remarkably weak for a castle caretaker."
Lockhart chuckled. It was usually the book answering his questions; now he got to be the expert. "He is weak. He's a Squib. I didn't know when I was a student, but I heard it from so alumni after I left."
"Aha... a Squib as the caretaker of Hogwarts. How curious."
As those words appeared in the diary, Kane returned to the Gryffindor common room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddling by the fireplace, yawning in sync.
"Is Neville back?" Kane asked.
"Just went up," Harry said. "We heard you and Filch got into it?"
"Not a fight, really. Filch just has a talent for being annoying." Kane didn't want to dump his negative energy on them, so he played it down as a minor friction.
Exhausted, Kane climbed into bed. But he hadn't been asleep long when a shimring silver bird flew through his window and landed on his headboard.
"Kane, I have studied Mrs. Norris further. I believe you should co to my office. Be careful."
The Patronus dissolved into light. Kane groaned, climbed out of bed, and got dressed. As he walked through the common room, the trio—still up and speculating about what could have made Kane so angry—watched him go.
"What now?" Hermione asked, a sudden sense of unease washing over her. "Is it Filch again?"
"In a way," Kane said, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not sure of the details yet."
He made his way to the Headmaster's office. Two cold tea cups on the desk suggested McGonagall and Snape had recently left.
Kane sat down and poured himself a fresh cup. "How is Mrs. Norris?"
"I have good news and bad news," Dumbledore said, pushing a plate of crisps toward him. "Which do you prefer?"
"I'm not sure your sense of humor is appropriate right now, but I'll play along. Good news first."
"Mrs. Norris is not dead. She is rely petrified."
"And the bad news?"
"We don't know the cause. It wasn't a Petrification Jinx, or a Draught, or any curse I recognize. It wasn't even that 'dusa's Eye' that's beco popular lately."
"And why am I here?" Kane asked.
"Just a warning," Dumbledore smiled. "This sester, like the last, will be a restless one. I don't know when I will need you, but be ready."
"Thanks for the burden. I'll go get ready by sleeping."
Kane went back to bed and fell into a deep sleep. But when he walked into the common room the next morning, he was t by three grim faces.
"Did I break another rule?" Kane asked, blinking.
Hermione swallowed hard. "It's Filch... he's been petrified."
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