The flames faded, leaving the diary as pristine as ever. Not a scorch mark, not a curl of the cover. It sat in the center of the containment circle, looking as smug and untouchable as any inanimate object could. I scowled at it, lowering my wand, the frustration bubbling under my skin.
Hermione shook her head, stepping forward with that determined look that meant I wasn't going to like what she said. "That's it, Sky. We need to tell Dumbledore."
I stiffened, the words hitting me like a slap. "No."
She blinked. "No? Sky, this is beyond us. This thing is dangerous. He has the experience—he can help!"
"I don't trust him," I said, my voice low but certain, the weight of it surprising even me.
Hermione stared at me as if I'd just told her I was secretly a Death Eater. "You… don't trust Dumbledore?"
"Exactly."
Her brow furrowed deeper. "Sky, he's Dumbledore! He's done more for the wizarding world than anyone. He's the reason Voldemort's gone!"
I blinked in disbelief, almost laughing. "How do you figure that?"
Hermione hesitated, clearly scrambling for facts to defend her hero. "He's the one who led the fight against him, the one everyone trusts—the one who kept Voldemort from taking over completely."
I gave her a look of pure disbelief. "Hermione, has someone put a mickey in your pumpkin juice lately? Dumbledore was barely able to help. And for your information, it was the Potters who defeated Moldyshorts, NOT Dumbledore." I shook my head. "There's a limit to how far delusions should go."
Hermione opened her mouth, but I didn't give her the chance. "He's the reason Harry's life has been one long setup. He left Harry with the Dursleys—he knew they were cruel. He chose some magical protection over Harry's well-being."
Hermione frowned, trying to hold onto her logic. "What magical protection? Maybe Dumbledore didn't know about Harry's treatment."
I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Hermione, Dumbledore is the headmaster. It doesn't take a genius to notice a malnourished first year with serious emotional baggage and an overdose of timidity. He looked as if all the confidence had been beaten out of him at its roots. Are you saying you never noticed? The kid's a celebrity in the magical world, and the only friend he's managed to snag is the glorious Ron Weasley."
Her eyes glazed over as realization crashed over her, muttering to herself, questioning how she hadn't seen it before, the dots connecting in her mind. She remembered the blood in the cupboard when we rescued Harry, the sight she'd tried to block out.
She remembered how skinny he looked on the first year train, but for some reason, she'd chalked it up to normal at the time. Why the hell had she thought that was normal?!
Her parents had been trained to be foster parents—they taught her to notice the signs of abused children at a young age. How could she have ignored all the obvious signs? Anger and frustration bubbled up as she punched the wall. "Was Dumbledore blind? Harry was sent back there after first year. Hadn't any of the professors noticed?" Then she turned back to Sky.
"What is this magical protection you talked about at Harry's house?" she asked.
I smirked. "Nuh uh uh. Spoilers."
Her glare was sharp, but beneath it was a flicker of hesitation, as if she was grappling with emotions she couldn't quite voice. There was a moment where I saw the conflict in her eyes, as though she wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.
"And don't forget first year," I said, my voice gaining strength. "Do you really think the Stone, the traps, the clues—all that happened by accident? Dumbledore set Harry up to face Voldemort. He could have stopped it at any time. But he didn't."
"Maybe he didn't expect it to go that far," Hermione offered, though even I could notice her tone of disbelief.
"He expected it. He designed it."
She tried again, grasping for some reason. "But he's protective. He wouldn't harm Harry."
I laughed bitterly. "Remember the troll? The Ministry wasn't called. The Prophet didn't report it. Parents weren't told. We could've been in danger—if I hadn't kept everyone in the Great Hall, who knows what could have happened? Dumbledore nearly let half the student body march toward it like sacrificial lambs, Hermione. If I hadn't kept everyone in the Great Hall, who knows what would've happened? And Quirrell's death? Swept under the rug. That isn't caution—it's manipulation."
Hermione looked contemplative, and I could almost see the chink forming in her mental armor. The defenses she'd clung to were starting to crumble, layer by layer, as my words sank in.
I leaned in, my tone turning razor-sharp. "He kept Harry ignorant of his own heritage. Harry's from a noble pure-blood family. He should have grown up knowing customs, expectations, alliances. But Dumbledore kept him in the dark—made him start at the bottom like us plebs, isolated him from the world he belongs to."
She stared at the floor, defeated. "That's… true. He does struggle."
"And Gryffindor?" I added, voice rising. "Last-minute points, rigging the House Cup. The points system itself—it used to be individual merit. Now it's a tool for rivalry, peer pressure, segregation. Dumbledore turned it into this."
Hermione sighed, visibly torn. Each time she had tried to defend Dumbledore, her arguments had felt weaker and weaker, crumbling under the weight of everything I said. Eventually, she stayed silent, her mind spinning as she listened, unable to deny the mounting reasons I laid bare. "Then what do we do?"
"We handle it ourselves," I said, softer now. "We find another way. But not through Dumbledore. Remember, Hermione, he's not just a headmaster. He's the Head of the Wizengamot. The Head of the ICW. Three full-time jobs.
He can't split himself into three people, so he passes his responsibilities to those closest to him. That means he's a man with immense power, and too much time with too little personal responsibility left. Power corrupts, Hermione. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Look at what I've just told you—Harry's setup, the cover-ups, the manipulation. The proof is right in front of us."
She stared at me, and for the first time, I saw her thoughts reach a conclusion, her doubt replaced by resolve. "Sky… what if you're right?"
I gave her a sad smile. "Then we do what we've always done. We watch each other's backs. And we don't let the mask fool us."