Noah's current position was undeniably awkward. He now stood alone at the front of the group, cautiously inspecting the petrified cat.
To any observer, the scene looked incriminating—like he might have been the one who attacked the cat.
Especially since Noah was holding a wand.
Although Kenn and the others also had their wands drawn, they were standing behind him. From an outsider's perspective, it looked like Noah was the prime suspect.
"Bloody hell... Did I end up in the wrong spot at the wrong time?" Noah muttered under his breath, feeling a little amused but mostly annoyed. What kind of situation is this?
In the original timeline, it was Harry—the poor scapegoat—who got misunderstood by Filch. How had he ended up in that role now?
But seriously… you, a Squib, threaten to kill me? Are you even serious?
Noah let out a bitter smile and glanced toward Filch, who was storming toward him, rage painted all over his face.
"Mr. Filch, I believe there's been a misunderstanding." Noah said calmly, attempting diplomacy.
"Misunderstanding? No!" Filch roared, "There's no misunderstanding! I'm going to kill you!"
He didn't give Noah a chance to speak. Without any warning, Filch lunged forward and grabbed the front of Noah's robes.
Noah's eyes narrowed.
Filch might have been a caretaker, but as a Squib, he seemed to have forgotten his place. These weren't regular students—these were young witches and wizards, future magic-users.
And in the wizarding world, if a Squib threatens a magician, it can be seen as grounds for retaliation—sometimes lethal.
The magical world isn't a fairy tale. Hogwarts may feel like one, but outside the castle, it's a brutal world ruled by power and politics.
Noah wasn't cruel, but he absolutely loathed being threatened.
And especially being manhandled while being told, "I'll kill you!"
Just before Filch's fingers gripped the fabric of his robes, Noah raised his wand. Its tip glowed faintly with a silvery light, ominous and steady.
The motion froze Filch mid-action, and gasps echoed through the hallway. The students around them stiffened in fear—this was bordering on a direct attack against school staff!
Kenn and the others were stunned. They hadn't expected things to escalate this far. But still, none of them hesitated. Not even Ron.
One by one, they raised their wands and pointed them at Filch, each wand tip beginning to shimmer with defensive magic.
"How dare you?" Filch shouted, his voice trembling despite the bravado.
Noah's expression turned cold. "Mr. Filch, I may be a student, but you just threatened to kill me. You grabbed my robes. As a staff member, is that appropriate behavior?"
"You little brats! I have every right! You're discriminating against me because I'm a Squib!" Filch yelled hoarsely.
"You admit you're a Squib. Then answer me this," Noah said as the glow of his wand intensified, "If a Squib attempts to assault a wizard, what does the law say happens? And as a wizard, what am I allowed to do in return?"
Sweat beaded on Filch's forehead. He slowly began to back away. He knew full well how powerful Noah was. Why had he provoked him of all people?
Still, he couldn't suppress his hatred. He knew Noah had something to do with this.
"What's going on here?" came a firm, elderly voice from the end of the corridor.
It was Dumbledore.
Relief washed over Filch's face, and he immediately darted behind the headmaster, as if Dumbledore were a human shield against Noah's wand.
"Professor Dumbledore! It's him! He killed my cat!" Filch cried, his voice cracking.
The students around booed.
Filch may have been disliked before, but now he looked pitiful. He no longer strutted like an authority figure—he looked more like a beaten dog.
"Argus, we will deal with this properly," Dumbledore said calmly. His gaze then shifted to the blood-red message scrawled on the wall. "Everyone, please return to your dormitories at once."
Noah had already lowered his wand and returned to Kenn's side, and the group began backing off, wand arms relaxing.
But just as they turned, Dumbledore added: "Except you, Mr. Finnell."
They all froze mid-step.
Noah sighed. Of course.
They might talk back to Filch or even raise their wands, but no one dared defy Dumbledore. He was one of the few people every student respected—even feared a little.
"Professor Dumbledore! He's the murderer!" Filch snapped again.
"That's enough, Argus. Your cat isn't dead—just petrified."
Filch was stunned. "W-What?"
Just then, Lockhart pushed to the front, puffing out his chest.
"Yes! A simple case of Petrification. Such a shame I wasn't here—I'd have cured her on the spot!"
But after seeing the unimpressed looks from Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore, he wisely shut up.
Noah, meanwhile, was baffled by Filch's continued accusations.
"Petrified? That's it? And now I'm a criminal because I know a common spell?" Noah muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, the Petrificus Totalus spell!" Filch shrieked. "That's his specialty! Don't forget those petrified house-elves I found the other day. It's got to be him!"
Noah's jaw twitched. That… had indeed been him.
But seriously, every student learned Petrificus Totalus in first year! Was he being accused just because he mastered it?
If that logic held up, anyone who knew a powerful spell would be labeled a Dark wizard.
By that standard, I'd already be branded a Death Eater…
Noah gave Filch a disdainful glance and ignored him. But in his mind, if that Squib tried anything again, he wouldn't hesitate to show him his place.
"Mr. Finnell, I believe we need to talk. Would you come with me?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"Of course, Professor. Anytime." Noah replied calmly.
"Then let's head to my office."
"Lead the way, sir."
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