March had arrived at Hogwarts with surprising gentleness, melting the February snow into muddy puddles across the grounds and coaxing tentative green buds from the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Inside the Great Hall, students gathered for breakfast beneath a ceiling enchanted to reflect the pale blue morning sky outside, their conversations a comfortable hum of routine and normalcy. Two weeks had passed since Harry's triumphant emergence from the Black Lake, and while his popularity had soared among his peers, the excitement of the Second Task had largely settled into the background of school life as exams and everyday concerns reclaimed center stage.
Chris sat at the Hufflepuff table, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth as he listened to Susan and Hannah debate the merits of different revision schedules for their upcoming exams. His sapphire eyes occasionally drifted to the enchanted ceiling, where the first hints of the morning owl post would soon appear. Hermione approached from the Gryffindor table, her arms laden with textbooks, and slid onto the bench beside Hannah. Moments later, Daphne arrived from the Slytherin table, her posture perfect as always as she claimed the seat opposite Chris.
"Good morning," Daphne said, her cool tone belying the slight warmth in her eyes as she surveyed the group. "I see Potter's managed to avoid another near-death experience for a full two weeks. A new record, perhaps?"
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide her smile. "He's actually focusing on classwork for once. The next task isn't until June, so we have time to prepare properly."
"Speaking of preparation," Hannah began, pushing her blonde plaits back over her shoulders, "I was thinking we could…"
Her words cut off as a rhythmic sound filled the hall, the beating of hundreds of wings. The morning post had arrived, and with it, a cloud of owls descended from the enchanted ceiling, packages and letters clutched in their talons. Nearly half the birds carried identical rolled newspapers, dropping them neatly beside students' breakfast plates with pinpoint precision.
"Daily Prophet's here," Susan observed, catching her copy as a tawny owl released it above her orange juice. She unrolled it casually, her attention still half on Hannah's study plans.
Chris accepted his own copy with deliberate calm, though a subtle tension had entered his shoulders. His fingers unfurled the paper slowly, revealing the bold headline that sprawled across the front page.
For three heartbeats, the Great Hall maintained its normal breakfast clamor. Then, like a wave, silence spread from those who had opened their newspapers first. The silence lasted only moments before erupting into gasps, exclamations, and frantic whispers that quickly grew in volume.
"Oh my god," a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl breathed, her voice carrying in the sudden lull. "Dumbledore's sister?"
"It can't be true," insisted a Gryffindor prefect, though doubt colored his tone.
Chris's eyes skimmed the headline: "The Dumbledore Delusion: Secrets, Lies, and the Sister in the Shadows!" Below it, Rita Skeeter's name stood in smaller but still prominent type. He allowed a tiny, satisfied smile to touch his lips before smoothing his expression into one of surprise as he began to read the article in earnest.
The Dumbledore Delusion: Secrets, Lies, and the Sister in the Shadows!
By Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Special Correspondent
For decades, Albus Dumbledore has paraded as the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts, a beacon of light, a champion of the innocent, and the vanquisher of Dark Lords. But beneath that twinkling gaze and those half-moon spectacles, what sinister truths lie buried? What dark secrets has our "Greatest Wizard of All Time" been hiding? Prepare yourselves, dear readers, for a revelation that will shatter your illusions!
It has come to this reporter's attention, through unimpeachable sources (who, naturally, insist on anonymity for fear of Dumbledore's wrath), that the saintly Albus Dumbledore has been concealing a most tragic and suspicious detail about his own family. A detail that casts a chilling shadow over his carefully constructed persona: the existence, and untimely demise, of his sister, Ariana Dumbledore!
That's right, dear readers. While Dumbledore grandly lectures us on family values and protecting the innocent, he conveniently forgets to mention the sister he kept hidden, a sister who met a mysterious and violent end in her youth. Why the secrecy? Why the silence surrounding this tragic figure in the Dumbledore clan?
My sources reveal that Ariana Dumbledore was not merely a forgotten relative; her death occurred amidst a scandalous duel involving none other than Albus Dumbledore himself, his estranged brother Aberforth, and the notorious Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald! The very wizard Dumbledore later claimed to defeat for the "Greater Good"! A convenient narrative, wouldn't you agree, when one considers the circumstances?
Eyewitness accounts, suppressed for decades, hint at a chaotic three-way duel, spells flying indiscriminately, and in the tragic crossfire, the young Ariana Dumbledore fell. But who cast the fatal spell? Was it Grindelwald? Was it Aberforth? Or, perhaps, was it the very wizard who now champions himself as the paragon of virtue, Albus Dumbledore? The Ministry has always been notoriously lax in investigating matters involving "sacred cows" like Dumbledore. One must ask: was there a proper inquiry? Were questions truly asked, or was this tragic "accident" swiftly swept under the rug to protect the rising star of the Wizarding world?
Dumbledore preaches accountability, yet avoids discussing his own past. He demands transparency, yet cloaks his family history in silence. Is this the leader we trust with our children's education? Is this the man who holds the keys to our perceived safety?
The time has come, Wizarding Britain, to look beyond the carefully crafted image. To ask the uncomfortable questions. For if Dumbledore can conceal such a fundamental truth about his own family, what else is he hiding? The truth, like a persistent Bludger, always finds its mark. And this reporter intends to make sure it does.
As Chris lowered the newspaper, satisfaction coursed through him like warm honey. Rita had delivered exactly as promised, her poison pen transforming his carefully selected facts into a public relations nightmare for Dumbledore. He glanced up at the staff table, where the Headmaster sat rigidly in his throne-like chair, his face a carefully composed mask that nevertheless couldn't quite hide the tightness around his eyes. Beside him, Snape's lips had curled into a subtle smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with unmistakable satisfaction.
"His sister?" Susan's voice pulled Chris's attention back to the table. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide with shock as she leaned toward him. "Dumbledore had a sister? And she... died in a duel?"
Hannah shook her head, blonde plaits swinging with the force of her disbelief. "And he never told anyone? Why would he hide something like that?"
"It's Rita Skeeter," Hermione said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. She stared down at the paper, her brow furrowed. "She twists everything, makes it sound worse than it is. But..." She trailed off, clearly struggling to reconcile this new information with her image of the kindly Headmaster.
Throughout the Great Hall, the revelation continued to spread like fiendfyre. Students abandoned their breakfasts, gathering in tight clusters, the newspaper passed from hand to hand. Some looked outraged, others confused, and a few, particularly among the Slytherins, seemed almost smug.
"A sister who died in a duel with Grindelwald, and he never mentioned it?" a Hufflepuff sixth-year exclaimed.
"My father always said Dumbledore was hiding something," a Slytherin girl told her friends loudly enough to be heard several tables away.
"It can't be true," insisted a loyal Gryffindor. "It just can't."
At the staff table, the reactions varied just as widely. Professor McGonagall's face had gone white with shock and fury, her lips pressed so tightly together they had nearly disappeared. Professor Flitwick looked deeply disturbed, his small hands trembling slightly as he set down his teacup. Professor Sprout appeared on the verge of tears.
Dumbledore slowly rose from his seat, the movement drawing all eyes in the hall. The usual twinkle had vanished from his blue eyes, replaced by a gravity that silenced many of the whispers. For a moment, it seemed he might address the hall, might offer some explanation or denial of the scandalous claims. Instead, he simply gazed out over the sea of students, his expression unreadable, before turning with dignity and walking with measured steps toward the side door behind the staff table.
As the door closed behind him, the volume in the Great Hall surged once more, the temporary hush shattered by the Headmaster's departure. Chris watched it all with quiet satisfaction, knowing that the first crack had appeared in Dumbledore's carefully constructed image of infallibility, and that more would follow.
...
The doors of the Great Hall could barely contain the storm of whispers and exclamations as Chris and his friends gathered their books and bags. All around them, students abandoned half-eaten breakfasts, huddling in tight circles with copies of the Daily Prophet spread between them, fingers jabbing at particularly shocking sentences. The article had struck like a bolt of lightning, illuminating shadows in Dumbledore's past that no one had suspected existed, leaving the familiar landscape of Hogwarts suddenly strange and uncertain.
"Let's get out of here," Chris suggested, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We can talk somewhere quieter."
They filed out into the corridor, where the noise from the Great Hall followed them like an invisible cloud. Susan kept glancing back over her shoulder, as though expecting to see Dumbledore return, perhaps to deny everything. Hannah clutched her copy of the Prophet against her chest, her normally cheerful face troubled. Daphne walked with her usual graceful composure, though her eyes were sharp with calculation.
Hermione broke the silence first, her voice tight with disbelief. "I can't believe it! Dumbledore had a sister, and she died in a duel with Grindelwald? Why would he keep that a secret all these years?"
"Perhaps he was ashamed," Daphne suggested. "Or perhaps there's more to the story than even Skeeter managed to uncover."
Susan shook her head, red-blonde hair catching the morning light streaming through the high castle windows. "And that Skeeter woman... she always makes things sound so awful, but if it's true..." She trailed off, clearly struggling to reconcile the kindly Headmaster they knew with someone who would hide such a significant tragedy.
"It makes him sound like a hypocrite, doesn't it?" Hannah added, her voice lower than usual. "Preaching about good and evil while hiding something like that. All those times he's talked about family being important, about facing our past..."
"Well, well, well," came a new voice, and they turned to see Harry approaching from a side corridor, his own copy of the Prophet clutched in his hand. His green eyes were harder than usual, his jaw set in a way that aged his young face. "Seems like our esteemed Headmaster has been keeping secrets. Again."
The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, and Chris knew the others could hear it too. They had all been present when Harry discovered how Dumbledore had been managing, and skimming from his family accounts for years.
"Harry," Hermione began, her brow furrowed with concern. "We don't know the whole story…"
"It wouldn't surprise me if he was lying," Harry cut her off, a cynical edge sharpening his words. "About his sister, about how she died. About everything." He held up the newspaper, jabbing a finger at Dumbledore's photograph. "He's good at that, isn't he? Manipulating the truth. Keeping things from people 'for their own good.'"
An uncomfortable silence followed his words. Even Hermione, usually the first to defend authority figures, seemed unable to argue.
Chris studied Harry for a moment, noting the tension in his shoulders, the tight grip he maintained on the newspaper. He felt a flicker of sympathy, even if he was seeing the seeds of doubt he'd planted taking root.
"Skeeter's known for exaggeration," Chris finally said, his voice measured and thoughtful. "Yes, but she rarely outright invents core facts. A secret sister, a duel involving Grindelwald, and a mysterious death... those details would be hard to fabricate entirely."
He glanced around at the group, making eye contact with each of them in turn. "It certainly makes you question the narrative we've been fed about him. Someone who champions 'the greater good' yet has such a personal tragedy hidden away. It's essentially murder, only we don't know who did it."
"Maybe he was trying to protect his family's privacy," Hermione suggested, though her voice lacked conviction. "Or maybe it was too painful to discuss."
"Or maybe," Daphne countered, her eyes glinting, "he didn't want anyone asking who actually cast the spell that killed his sister. Skeeter raises a fair point about that, at least."
They had reached an empty classroom, and Chris pushed open the door, gesturing for the others to enter. As they settled into seats, the debate continued, Susan and Hannah expressing disillusionment, Hermione struggling to find justifications, Daphne analyzing the political implications, and Harry nursing his resentment.
"I just don't understand why he wouldn't have mentioned her," Susan said, perching on the edge of a desk. "Even in passing. It feels... deliberate, somehow."
"Of course it was deliberate," Harry replied flatly. "Everything he does is."
Astoria burst into the room then, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she rushed to Chris's side. "Big brother! Have you seen the paper? Everyone's talking about it! Is Dumbledore going to be fired? Some of the Slytherins are saying he might be!"
Daphne sighed, reaching out to tug her sister's sleeve. "Calm down, Astoria. No one's being fired over a newspaper article."
"Not yet, anyway," Harry muttered.
Chris placed a gentle hand on Astoria's head. "It's complicated, little one. But it is interesting to see how quickly people's perceptions can change when new information comes to light."
He turned back to the group, his sapphire eyes serious. "The truth is, we don't know exactly what happened. We may never know. But this does highlight something important." He paused, making sure he had everyone's attention. "We shouldn't put our trust in others, let alone Dumbledore. We should always trust our own strength."
The words hung in the air, simple yet profound. Hannah nodded slowly, while Susan's expression grew more resolved. Even Hermione, torn as she was, seemed to be considering his words carefully.
Harry's green eyes met Chris's, a flash of understanding passing between them. "You're right," he said, straightening his shoulders slightly. "We can only rely on ourselves."
Chris nodded, satisfied, then clapped his hands together, physically breaking the somber mood that had settled over them. "Anyway, enough about all of this. We need to get back to training Harry for the final task. We don't know what it is, but it's bound to be just as dangerous as the other two."
The shift in topic was deliberate, steering them away from endless speculation toward practical action. It worked, Hermione immediately began listing potential spells they should practice, while Hannah suggested they review creatures Harry might encounter.
As the conversation flowed into familiar patterns of planning and preparation, Chris caught Daphne watching him, a knowing look in her eyes. She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the skillful way he had guided the conversation, sowing doubt about Dumbledore while simultaneously strengthening their group's bonds and sense of self-reliance.
Chris smiled back, and said quietly that they will talk later.