As expected of twins, the two brothers spoke so similarly.
With that thought in mind, Vizette slowly approached Filch.
As if sensing danger, Mrs. Norris arched her back and bristled, making threatening "gurgling" sounds in her throat.
"What do you want?" Filch realized something was wrong; he seemed to have switched from being the hunter to the hunted.
Vizette observed Filch's performance, and as he pondered, he changed his tone.
"Mr. Filch…"
He imitated Professor Snape's voice, somber and cold, with a hint of disdain and arrogance.
In Vizette's opinion, this was the most suitable tone for the current situation; Professor Snape's voice was still quite imposing...
"It's three against two now, what do you think... we can do?"
...
Achoo!
Snape opened his eyes and sneezed loudly.
His sleep quality had been poor ever since that OWL exam.
Without the aid of magical potions, it was easy to wake up from a dream unexpectedly.
He had been woken up by small noises like sneezing many times, so he wasn't surprised.
Especially after Harry Potter enrolled in school, the frequency of his sneezing had increased dramatically.
Snape called out in a low voice, "Gryffindor, deduct one point!"
Upon arriving at his office, his gaze fell upon the Horklumps.
He waved his wand, sending several earthworms to the Horklumps' side, and watched as they devoured them bit by bit, only then did a few slivers of drowsiness begin to creep in...
...
"Wow!" Fred and George exclaimed in unison, their voices tinged with surprise. "That tone sounds so familiar..."
They also imitated Professor Snape's tone, "Filch, it's three against two now, what do you think... we can do?"
"What are you planning to do?!" Filch shouted at the top of his lungs.
Although his voice sounded firm, his eyes became unfocused.
Having spent years dealing with students, he naturally wouldn't soften his tone easily.
"Why don't we get to the bottom of this… and talk about what happened tonight…" Vizette took a few more steps forward, his wand already in his hand.
The wand tapped lightly on the outside of the thigh, producing a dull, tinkling sound that mingled with the unhurried footsteps, creating a unique sense of oppression.
Filch remained silent, his eyes revealing a hint of bravado masking underlying weakness.
Vizette looked Filch straight in the eye. "Mr. Filch? Solving the problem is the key, isn't it?"
George said in an odd tone, "Vizette, don't be so polite with that tone, it sounds really strange!"
"Exactly!" Fred twisted his body, struggling to break free from Filch's grasp, and stood up with a grin, hands on his hips, saying, "Now the advantage is ours!"
Filch glanced at the three boys blocking the corridor, his wandering gaze finally settling on George. "Make him hand over that letter! Tonight's events... I'll pretend they never happened!"
George fumbled in his pocket with exaggerated movements, pulling out two envelopes. "Do you want the letter in this parchment envelope... or the letter in this purple envelope?"
Filch stared intently at the purple envelope, threatening menacingly, "Give it to me! Or you're finished!"
"I'm going to hang you on the wall and whip you, one lash after another, until your skin is torn and bleeding, and I won't stop!"
"So this is what you wanted!" George exclaimed, waving the envelope in his hand. "No wonder you called me out earlier...it was for this..."
"Don't get so worked up..." Fred said, shaking his head. "Have you forgotten what the situation is? We have one more person than you!"
"Since Filch won't say, then we'll have to say it ourselves… Vizette, do you know what this letter is? Haha! It's a rapid spell-chanting course…"
"Meow!"
Before Fred could finish speaking, Mrs. Norris leaped up, grabbed the purple envelope, and handed it to Filch.
George shook his hand dramatically. "Whew! That was close! He almost bit my hand!"
Vizette knew about the Rapid Spellcasting Course, a correspondence course offered by a magic company to help adult wizards improve their magical abilities.
"Filch, you've misunderstood us. We're just trying to help you!" George continued. "This course won't be of much use to you, after all, you are…"
Combined with this letter about the rapid spell-chanting course, and the commotion caused by George, Fred, Filch, and Mrs. Norris...
Vizette now had a more complete understanding of what happened tonight.
"Ahem..." Vizette coughed twice and waved to George. "Mr. Filch, do you want to master magic and use magic?"
"What do you want to say? What do you know!" Filch's bluster hadn't disappeared, but his tone became even more forceful.
"What you know isn't important, what's important is you..." Vizette didn't answer, continuing to press in a somber, dismissive tone, "Do you want to master magic?"
Filch froze, his eyes flickering with a hint of confusion as he pondered the meaning of Vizette's words.
He knew that Vizette was a somewhat mysterious student; the other professors were one thing, but even Snape treated Vizette differently…
Coupled with the deeper meaning implied in Vizette's tone, Filch found it somewhat intriguing.
Filch couldn't be sure whether Vizette's claim of "mastering magic" was true or not.
He knew he was a Squib, and if he could truly master magic, he wouldn't be a janitor at Hogwarts, putting up with the students' bad temper.
Signing up for the rapid incantation course now was simply a way of giving it another try and seeing if a miracle would happen.
When he saw the wand that night, he was incredibly excited. He immediately grabbed it and tried to use Lumos.
However, reality was cruel; as a Squib, he indeed had no magical talent.
But... Snape was a Potions Master, and Vizette went to Snape's office every week...
Could it be that through Vizette, Snape could obtain some kind of potion that would allow a Squib to cast spells?
Potions were widely used in the magical world. Filch had learned from the Daily Prophet that someone had invented a potion called Wolfsbane Potion, which could restore the sanity of werewolves in their transformed state.
Even werewolves, the lowest rung of the magical world, could be freed from their rage and bloodlust with the help of potions; so could Squibs be altered by potions and thus gain the ability to cast spells?
Thinking of this, Filch gritted his teeth, as if filled with some hope, yet also afraid of being disappointed again.
His voice was forced out through clenched teeth, "You... what way... is there to really let me cast a spell?"
"Mr. Filch, please note…" Vizette gently shook his head, correcting Filch's statement, "I said 'mastering magic,' not 'casting magic.'"
….
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