"There are countless school rules, but the first rule is: Don't get caught."
Breaking school rules was one thing. Being caught red-handed by Dumbledore himself was something else entirely, and accepting the loss of points was inevitable.
Dumbledore folded his hands, tapping his long middle finger against his index finger as he studied the six young wizards before him. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
But this smile was neither kind nor benevolent. Everyone knew what it meant—points were about to be deducted.
Dumbledore glanced up at the ceiling briefly, seemingly deep in thought, before finally speaking in a soft voice.
"For wandering the castle at night, violating Rule 7, Article 13: ten points from each of you."
William and the other seasoned rule-breakers remained stoic.
They'd evaded detection countless times before, but as the saying went, you can't always walk by the river and not get your shoes wet. They were prepared for this.
Hermione, however, on her first nocturnal adventure, trembled slightly.
The ten-point deduction seemed to cut her to the core. Still, knowing they were in the wrong, she chose not to argue.
But Dumbledore wasn't finished.
"For trespassing into a restricted area: ten points each."
Hermione opened her mouth, seemingly ready to protest, but thought better of it. Realizing she had no valid counterargument, she bit her lip and looked down.
"For taking Professor Sprout's Devil's Snare: ten points each."
"For damaging the enchanted keys set by Professor Flitwick: ten points each."
"For taking Professor McGonagall's wizard chess pieces: ten points each."
"For taking Professor Snape's potions: ten points each."
The deductions now totaled sixty points, and Dumbledore still wasn't done.
"For disturbing my sleep at midnight: fifteen points each."
Hermione's eyes reddened, her shoulders shaking.
She had expected a minor punishment but was utterly unprepared for the rapid succession of deductions that had now reached seventy-five points.
Finally, when Dumbledore added, with his usual calmness, "And for graffiti on the walls: ten points each," Hermione broke into tears.
The portraits of past Headmasters on the walls erupted into a cacophony of arguments.
Armando Dippet, a former Ravenclaw, shouted about the unfairness of it all. Phineas Nigellus Black, on the other hand, laughed uproariously, banging a conjured goblet against his frame in delight.
"Yes, yes, quite a lot of points were deducted," Dumbledore mused, shaking his head as he raised a finger. "However, there are some other matters to consider tonight."
Clearing his throat, he continued, "The six of you were the first students to successfully pass the challenges I set.
"You demonstrated both genius and courage. For that, I award sixty points to each of you."
"And," he added with a smile, "Miss Granger's suggestions on the walls were very insightful. I'll take them into serious consideration. Twenty more points to each of you."
"I've decided to install a suggestion box in the corridor," Dumbledore announced. "This way, students can write to me directly instead of resorting to graffiti."
Hermione looked up, her tears subsiding.
Dumbledore winked mischievously. "Of course, the box will only accept student letters. Otherwise, I'd likely be buried in Howlers."
Hermione finally stopped crying, and her face flushed a little as if she was feeling a little happy.
"So… in the end, we were only docked five points each?" Fred muttered as they exited the Headmaster's office.
"Compared to eighty-five, five points is nothing. You can earn that back in one class," William shrugged.
"That's easy for you to say!" George sighed. "If we tried answering questions in class, this is how it'd go…"
George gave Fred a knowing look.
Fred mimicked Hermione by shooting his hand into the air. George pursed his lips and adopted a stern expression, imitating Professor McGonagall.
"Mr. Weasley, you should visit the hospital wing."
Fred sighed dramatically. "Exactly. Professors think it's suspicious if we answer questions voluntarily."
The group burst into laughter.
Hermione tilted her head, her tone serious. "I think losing just five points is a reason to be happy.
"I believe the Headmaster should've docked ten points. It would've been a better reminder.
"He's testing us. Even if it had been twenty points, I'd have gladly accepted it."
In that moment, Hermione became a devoted supporter of Dumbledore.
"When I get back, I'm going to write Professor Dumbledore an apology letter for tonight's foolish behavior," she declared, crossing her arms with a stern expression that was uncannily like McGonagall's.
"And I'll include several suggestions—especially about Professor Dumbledore himself. He's too lenient. A Headmaster should be stricter, more like Professor McGonagall."
Meanwhile, Cedric and Cho were studying the Marauder's Map.
Despite the map showing nothing at the end of the corridor, passing through the fiendfyre had brought them directly to the Headmaster's office.
They were intrigued.
"Shh, don't talk," Cedric whispered suddenly. "Snape is coming."
William quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm, and they all hid in the shadows.
Snape, clad in black pajamas, approached from the fourth-floor corridor, his face sour.
The fourth floor contained only the restricted area, indicating he had just come from there.
Snape stopped at the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, muttered the password, and disappeared inside.
Once Snape was gone, Cedric whispered, "Do you think he realized someone tampered with his enchantments?"
"Probably," William nodded. "Let's head back to our dormitories before Snape catches us. He'll deduct far more than five points if he does."
Unlike Dumbledore, Snape was far less merciful.
…
Inside the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat alone, gazing intently at the magnificent mirror before him.
The Mirror of Erised stood tall, its ornate golden frame reaching the ceiling, supported by clawed feet. The inscription at the top read:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
Reflected within the mirror was an old man, gaunt and white-haired, dressed in simple black robes. He sat alone on a dusty chair, hands clasped, smiling faintly at Dumbledore.
The scene shifted.
The black-robed man vanished, replaced by several figures, all smiling warmly at Dumbledore. Among them was a girl, about thirteen or fourteen, waving at him.
Dumbledore reached out a trembling hand to touch the glass, tears streaming down his face.
"Forgive me, Ariana," he whispered. "I failed to protect you. I'm so, so sorry…"