Hogwarts: I'm Harry's older cousin

Chapter 146, Page 144: Actually, I have a mandrake plant right here.

"Filch! Stop!"

Just as Filch was about to fight Cormac to the death, Dumbledore rushed over, followed by several professors. With a gentle wave of his wand, he freed Mrs. Norris from the torch stand.

"The prefect took the others to the dining hall, Argus, the professors and I, and of course you, Mr. McClargan."

"I think you should tell us what you saw."

Dumbledore then turned to Carlo and said, "Mr. Richmond, I'm sorry, I think..."

Carlo has already graduated and is no longer a student at Hogwarts, so he should naturally avoid such situations.

"It's alright, Professor Dumbledore," Carlo shrugged, indicating his understanding.

"I think the disciplinary team should go too."

Dumbledore glanced at Dudley, did not refuse, but simply nodded slightly at him.

Maintaining good conduct and discipline is the responsibility of the discipline team.

"Then Mr. Dursley will follow."

As for Harry and the others, Dumbledore didn't call them.

"My office is the closest to here, just upstairs. I think you guys can do it."

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said casually.

After saying that, he fell silent. Clearly, he was recalling some unpleasant memories.

Lockhart's classroom was filled with portraits of himself, all kinds, in various poses and outfits.

Dudley swore he had never seen such a narcissistic guy.

Doesn't he find it strange to look at his own portrait every day?

Dumbledore placed Mrs. Norris on Lockhart's polished desk and began to examine her carefully. Cormac huddled nervously in a corner, trying not to attract attention; Filch stood to one side, secretly wiping away tears with his sleeve; the other professors wore varying expressions, but Lockhart looked extremely excited.

It's unclear whether he was excited because he had just won second place or because he was excited to see Mrs. Lorris die.

"It must have been a curse that killed it. It was most likely a transmutation torture spell. I've seen others use this spell many times. It's a real shame I wasn't there; I happened to know the antidote and could have saved it."

This guy, always eager for drama, stirred things up, only making Filch cry even harder.

"No, Mrs. Lorice, no! I can't lose you!"

Large tears streamed down his cheeks; his feelings for Mrs. Lorris were truly deep.

Dudley went up and patted him on the shoulder to comfort him.

"Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Lawrence is dead!"

Filch didn't actually like Dudley because he felt that Mrs. Lorris was closer to him, so he harbored some hostility towards Dudley.

However, at this point he believed that only Dudley could understand him.

"Mrs. Lorris is not dead, Mr. Filch."

"Dali said."

Filch suddenly looked up at Dudley, as if trying to determine if the other was trying to comfort him.

"Hey, Dudley. How come you don't think it's dead? You see all this blood, and its muscles are stiff. It's obviously dead and then frozen by someone else."

Upon hearing Dudley say that Mrs. Lorris was not dead, Lockhart looked very unhappy and tried to refute Dudley: "Believe me, I've seen more corpses than you have."

"That's chicken blood," Dudley said, too lazy to waste any more words arguing with him.

"I agree with Dali."

Dumbledore spoke up, and with his support, Lockhart fell silent: "He's probably petrified. But I don't know exactly how."

Having received Dumbledore's assurance, Filch finally breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to Cormac with a fierce expression.

"He must know!"

"No, I don't know, I don't know anything, I didn't see anything!"

"Colmack shouted, looking extremely terrified," he said.

Poor mental fortitude

"Argus, calm down. This is not something a third-year wizard can do."

Dumbledore tried to comfort Filch.

"My cat's turned to stone!" Filch shrieked, his eyes bulging outwards as if he were about to fight someone. "I want to see someone punished!"

At this moment, Dudley took out a bottle of potion and dripped a drop onto the stiff Mrs. Lorris. A faint black mist wafted out, accompanied by an almost imperceptible stench.

"What did you find?" Snape asked, leaning closer as he saw Dudley's movements.

He was extremely satisfied with his disciple, who had inherited Lily's potion-making talent and was just as talented as she was back then. She could quickly master any kind of potion, as if Lily had been reborn.

In just one year, it has shown a tendency to form its own distinct style.

If it weren't for the fact that he was still too young, Snape would have loved to impart all his knowledge and most treasured skills to him.

Lily's successor should be this outstanding.

"It wasn't a typical petrification curse, nor was it caused by dark magic."

"Neither a petrification curse nor dark magic?" Snape paused, immediately realizing a possibility: "You mean..."

"Yes, Professor Snape, that should be it."

Dudley nodded slightly, acknowledging Snape's guess: "It's been petrified by some kind of magical creature."

"Very likely." Dumbledore nodded upon hearing this, and Dudley's words eased his brow slightly.

If it's the petrification ability of some kind of magical creature, then it makes sense.

"Please save her, Mr. Dursley! You should be able to, you love her so much, please!" Filch said to Dudley, his voice choked with sobs.

Filch, the castle keeper, was surprised to find that the first person he begged was Dudley, a student.

After all, that's Dudley. Although he's only a second-year wizard, he has already proven his abilities.

"We will heal it, Filch," Dumbledore said patiently. "Mrs. Sprout recently acquired some mandrakes. Once they are fully grown, I have a remedy that can bring Mrs. Lorris back to life."

"Professor Dumbledore," Dudley interrupted him, "Actually, I have a mature mandrake right here."

As he spoke, Dali took off another red and white ball from his waist, different from the one Pixie wore.

With a flash of light, a mandrake shaped like a baby yawned and looked around in confusion.

After a moment, as if finally realizing what was happening, she screamed and hid behind Dali's pants, clinging to Dali's thighs and timidly peeking out to look at the others.

Oh, my Merlin, what did they see?

A mandrake that has grown into the shape of a human?

A lively mandrake?

A mandrake that doesn't make a sound when it's taken out of the soil?

What kind of thing is this?

(End of this chapter)