Chapter 45
The walk to the Headmaster’s office was silent. Too silent.
Harry could feel their eyes on him—Dumbledore’s quiet intensity, McGonagall’s barely concealed worry, and Lockhart’s poorly masked confusion. The rest of the professors trailed behind, their presence heavy.
The stone gargoyle guarding the entrance leapt aside at Dumbledore’s murmured password. Harry stepped onto the spiraling staircase, his heart pounding with each turn.
By the time they reached the top, Harry had already made his decision.
He wouldn’t say a word.
Not about her.
Not about the presence that had momentarily taken hold.
Not about the creeping sense of wrongness that had been following him since summer.
Dumbledore gestured toward a seat in front of his desk, but Harry remained standing.
The silence stretched.
McGonagall was the first to break it. “Mr. Potter.” Her voice was firm, but not unkind. “Would you care to explain what happened back there?”
Harry met her gaze but said nothing.
“You were… different.” Flitwick, who had been silent until now, spoke hesitantly. “The magic in the air was unlike anything I’ve felt before.”
“It was dark,” Sprout added, shivering slightly.
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “Harry.” His voice was gentle. “You do not have to be afraid. If something is troubling you, we can help.”
Harry swallowed hard. The temptation was there—just for a moment—to tell them. To let it all spill out.
But then he remembered.
The way she watched him in the chapel.
The way she lingered in the shadows.
The way her presence wrapped around his magic like a chain, coiling tighter and tighter.
If he said anything…
Would she be angry?
Would she punish him?
Would she even let him speak?
“I don’t know what happened,” Harry said finally, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “I just blacked out for a second. That’s all.”
McGonagall frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That was no simple fainting spell, Potter.”
Harry only shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Dumbledore’s eyes remained locked onto Harry, as if trying to see something beyond him. Something inside him.
Finally, the old wizard leaned back. “Very well.” His tone was unreadable. “You may return to your dormitory.”
Harry turned on his heel and left without another word.
As soon as the door closed behind him, murmurs erupted from the professors.
“He’s hiding something,” Snape said coolly.
Dumbledore did not respond immediately. Instead, he kept his gaze on the door Harry had just walked through, his fingers still steepled.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I believe he is.”