The Tenth Weasley - CH - 64

The office was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the odd contraptions lining the shelves. Silver instruments whirred and clicked, casting long, dancing shadows on the stone walls. Fawkes the phoenix sat perched by the window, his vivid plumage catching the soft glow of candlelight.

Harry sat in the center of the room, rigid, his hands clenched in his lap. His mind was racing, trying to piece together how everything had gone so wrong.

Dumbledore sat behind his massive, intricately carved desk, his expression calm but his blue eyes piercing and thoughtful. On one side of the room, Filch was pacing, his face twisted with anger, his bony hands clenching and unclenching.

“I saw him!” Filch barked, pointing a trembling finger at Harry. “That boy was standing right over Finch-Fletchley’s body! It’s just like what he did to Mrs. Norris! The boy’s got a taste for blood, he does!”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore raised a hand, signaling for silence. “Argus, please calm yourself,” Dumbledore said softly. “Let us hear what Harry has to say.”

Filch gave an indignant huff but stayed quiet, glowering at Harry.

“Harry,” Dumbledore began, his voice gentle but probing, “is it true? Were you involved in what happened to Mr. Finch-Fletchley or Nearly Headless Nick?”

“No!” Harry burst out, his heart hammering. “I swear, Professor, I didn’t do anything. I was just—”

“Lies!” Filch interrupted, his face reddening. “I caught him red-handed! Just standing there over the boy! He’s got dark magic about him—I’ve always said it!”

Dumbledore gave Filch a patient look. “Harry,” he said again, his gaze softening. “Why were you in that corridor so late? The curfew has been moved up, as you know.”

Harry swallowed hard. “I know… I just—I forgot about the change. I was in the library with Hermione Granger. We were researching something, and I lost track of time.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “And what were you researching?”

“Just... stuff about the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry admitted, trying to sound casual. “We were trying to find out more about what kind of creature might be petrifying students.”

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “Indeed? And Miss Granger can verify this?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded. “She was with me the whole time. I only left when the library was about to close.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “And when you came upon the corridor, what did you see?”

Harry hesitated, his mind replaying the scene. “I heard... something,” he admitted, carefully choosing his words. “It sounded like... hissing. Like a voice. I thought it was just my imagination at first. But when I got to the corridor, I saw Justin... and Nick. They were already like that. I didn’t see anyone else.”

“Hissing?” Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. “You say you heard a hissing voice?”

Harry bit his lip, not wanting to say too much. “Yes, Professor.”

Filch scoffed. “He’s making it up! That boy’s dangerous, I tell you! Didn’t I say he was the one who cursed Mrs. Norris?”

Dumbledore turned his sharp gaze to Filch. “We do not know that, Argus. Nor do we know that Harry is responsible for this incident either.”

Filch muttered something under his breath but stayed silent.

Dumbledore returned his attention to Harry. “And the hissing—did you understand what it was saying?”

Harry hesitated. “I... no, sir,” he lied. “It just sounded like hissing to me.”

Dumbledore’s piercing gaze didn’t waver. “You are sure?”

Harry nodded firmly. “Yes, sir.”

Dumbledore finally leaned back, folding his hands over his desk. “I believe you, Harry,” he said softly. “But I must caution you. There are many who will not be so willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You must take great care.”

Harry nodded, feeling a little relieved but still tense. “Yes, Professor.”

Filch glared at Harry, his nostrils flaring. “So you’re just going to let him go? After what he did?”

“There is no evidence, Argus,” Dumbledore said gently. “And Harry’s story checks out. Miss Granger will be questioned to confirm his alibi. For now, we must focus on finding the real culprit.”

Filch looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew better than to push Dumbledore too far. With one last venomous glare at Harry, he stomped out of the office, muttering darkly.

Dumbledore regarded Harry with a look of quiet contemplation. “You may go now, Harry. And please—exercise caution. The castle is not as safe as it once was.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry murmured, grateful to be dismissed. He stood up, his legs shaky, and made his way out of the office. As he stepped into the corridor, he couldn’t help but feel a chill down his spine.


Harry couldn’t help but feel the familiar weight of suspicion pressing down on him. He kept his head high, determined not to let anyone see the turmoil churning within him. The whispers had started even before he reached the dungeons.

The moment he pushed through the stone wall entrance into the Slytherin common room, several pairs of eyes flickered his way. Conversations halted mid-sentence, and the usual chatter dipped to a murmur. Harry forced himself to walk calmly toward his room, but he could feel the gazes boring into his back.

Daphne and Blaise were waiting for him by the fireplace, and both wore expressions of concern. Blaise raised an eyebrow. “You good?” he asked quietly.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Dumbledore believed me, I guess. Filch is just... being Filch.”

Daphne frowned. “There’s a rumor going around that Filch caught you red-handed and that Dumbledore only let you off because you’re a Weasley. Apparently, the whole school thinks you attacked Justin.”

Harry snorted. “Of course they do. Filch can’t keep his mouth shut. He probably ran his mouth to every student he came across after Dumbledore dismissed him.”

Blaise shook his head. “People are saying it’s favoritism. The whole Weasley family has always been cozy with Dumbledore. The way people see it, you should be in trouble, but Dumbledore gave you a free pass.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I didn’t do anything. Dumbledore knows that. But that doesn’t matter to the rumor mill.”

Daphne crossed her arms. “It’s not just that. You’ve lost your golden ticket with Lockhart too.”

Harry looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Lockhart’s been avoiding you,” she explained. “He’s been telling anyone who would listen that he’s always suspected you had a dark side. Now he’s spreading rumors that he knew something was off about you all along.”

Harry’s hands clenched into fists. “Of course, he would. The coward doesn’t want his reputation tarnished by being associated with me. Probably thinks it’ll hurt his book sales.”

Blaise smirked. “Yeah, he’s definitely trying to save his own skin. Last I heard, he’s giving Charlie Potter extra lessons on defense and bragging that he’s training the real hero of Hogwarts. The idiot doesn’t want to risk being connected to someone people think is the Heir of Slytherin.”

Harry couldn’t help but scoff. “Figures. Lockhart is nothing but a fraud anyway. He was only using me to bolster his own image. Now that I’m in hot water, he’s trying to latch onto Charlie. Typical.”

Daphne sat down on one of the plush green armchairs. “You’ve got to be careful, Harry. People are getting bolder. Some are even saying that you’ve been planning this since you first got sorted into Slytherin. They’re starting to put the pieces together— your connection to Professor Quirrell, and now this.”

Harry sat down beside her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know. It’s like everything’s spiraling out of control. I thought things were bad before, but now it’s worse. I can’t go anywhere without people whispering. Some have even started hexing me in the corridors.”

Blaise leaned against the fireplace mantle. “So, what’s the plan? You can’t just keep dodging spells every day. You’re going to have to confront this sooner or later.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah. But first, I need to find the real Heir of Slytherin. I can’t let this go on much longer. If I can prove it’s not me, maybe they’ll finally leave me alone.”

Daphne gave him a sympathetic look. “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back. Just... don’t do anything reckless, okay?”

A small, grateful smile appeared on Harry’s face. “I’ll try. But one way or another, I’m going to put an end to this. I just need to be smart about it.”

Blaise gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll figure this out together. In the meantime, just keep your head down. The more you retaliate, the more they’ll believe the rumors. Let them think what they want for now.”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling slightly better with his friends at his side. “You’re right. I’ll keep a low profile. But I’m not going to let them push me around either.”

Daphne nodded. “Good. Just remember, you’re not alone in this.”

As the night deepened and the common room slowly emptied, Harry remained thoughtful. His mind was racing with possibilities. Somewhere in the castle, the real Heir of Slytherin was out there. And Harry was determined to find them before Hogwarts turned entirely against him.


The thought of spending the Christmas holidays with the Potters was both unnerving and frustrating for Harry. After everything that had happened at Hogwarts, he was looking forward to the relative peace of the Weasley Manor. Even if his parents were going to smother him with attention, it was still better than dealing with the growing tension at school. But when he received Molly's letter, his heart sank.

Harry read the letter again, hoping he had misunderstood.

"Dear Harry,
We’re so happy to hear you’re coming home for the holidays! Unfortunately, your father and I have made a bit of a change in plans. Since Charlie and Ron are staying at Hogwarts, and the rest of your siblings have decided to stay back too, we thought it might be nice if you spent the holidays with the Potters instead.
They’ve kindly invited you, and it would be a wonderful opportunity for you to spend some time with them. We’ll see you soon after the holidays!
Love,
Mum."

Harry sighed heavily, folding the letter and shoving it into his pocket. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. The idea of spending time with the Potters made his stomach churn. He wasn’t prepared to handle the awkwardness of it all, especially after the recent rumors about him being the Heir of Slytherin.

Daphne knocked on the doorframe before stepping into his room, followed by Blaise. “You look like someone just told you they banned Quidditch,” Daphne observed, raising an eyebrow.

Blaise gave a short laugh. “What’s got you looking so grim?”

Harry leaned back against the bedpost. “Christmas holidays. I planned to go back to the Weasleys’, but Mum wrote saying that they’ve arranged for me to stay with the Potters instead.”

Daphne’s eyes widened. “You’re staying with the Potters? As in Charlie’s family? Over the holidays?”

Harry nodded reluctantly. “Apparently, Ron and Charlie are staying here, and none of my siblings are going back either. So, Mum and Dad thought it would be a good idea for me to spend the holiday with the Potters.”

Blaise snorted. “That’s going to be... interesting.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with them. It’s not like I’m close to them or anything. The only one who seems to care is Lily Potter, and that just makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Daphne gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t you just stay here at Hogwarts?”

Harry shook his head. “I need a break from this place. The constant glares, the whispered accusations—it’s driving me mad. At least at the Potters’, no one will be accusing me of being the Heir of Slytherin.”

Daphne smiled softly. “Look at it this way, Harry. Maybe it’ll be good for you. You can just take it easy, eat good food, and not have to worry about Slytherins or Gryffindors constantly eyeing you like you’re about to murder them.”

Blaise smirked. “And if they start acting weird, just give them your best Slytherin glare. Works every time.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel a little better after talking with his friends. He still felt apprehensive about spending the holidays with the Potters, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice now.

A few days later, as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station, Harry watched the castle grow smaller in the distance. He had Blaise and Daphne’s words in his mind: try to relax and treat it as a break. Easier said than done, but he would give it a shot.

As the train made its way to London, Harry tried to distract himself by reading one of his new defense books, but his mind kept wandering back to what awaited him at the Potters' house. Would it be just as suffocating as the Weasleys'? Would they treat him like a guest or like family? And most importantly, would he be able to endure the constant reminder that, no matter how much he tried, he would never truly feel like one of them?

He took a deep breath and focused on the book. Whatever happened, he would face it head-on. It was just one holiday. How bad could it be?