It sounded absurd.
But the facts were undeniable.
Although Gryffindor wasn't like Slytherin, constantly boasting about bloodlines, the number of pureblood students wasn't small. Those who had previously felt safest now resembled Neville, panicked and uneasy.
Most courage comes from a false sense of security.
Now, Gryffindor purebloods, like their mixed-blood and Muggle-born peers, grabbed quills and parchment, frantically penning letters to their families.
As the crowd dispersed, the house-elf disappeared after Harry waved it away.
"Why would he target a pureblood?" Hermione frowned, her mind racing. "Doesn't this just escalate things unnecessarily?"
"He wants to escalate things," Harry confirmed.
Ron seemed to connect the dots, suddenly leaning so far back in his chair he almost toppled over—only for Harry to grab him by the collar and pull him upright. Ron didn't even bother straightening himself, instead whispering fearfully:
"It's about Dumbledore, isn't it?"
Harry nodded.
"Dumbledore?" Hermione gasped, her surprise unmistakable.
When Ron finally regained his seat, Hermione's expression turned even more shocked. "He wants to oust Dumbledore from the castle?"
Ron stared at her in amazement. "How do you know that? Did Harry tell you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione replied, her brow furrowed. "But does he have the means to connect with outsiders and stir up such chaos?"
"He doesn't need to," Harry replied, shaking his head. "He knows all too well—just doing this much will prompt someone to eagerly step forward and remove Dumbledore."
"That's impossible—Dumbledore is the greatest white wizard of all time!" Hermione's expression twisted with disbelief.
"The Malfoy family is on the Hogwarts Board of Governors," Ron interjected grimly.
Hermione froze.
"Great men often make many enemies," Harry added.
"What do we do if Dumbledore is removed?" Hermione asked, rubbing her face anxiously.
"Maybe Malfoy will swoop in, resolve the situation, and become the new headmaster," Ron speculated, his voice sinking even lower.
The horrifying image of Lucius Malfoy—his face pale and lifeless—delivering the opening speech at the start-of-term feast flashed through Ron's mind. He shuddered violently.
"Hogwarts has Snape already, and that's more than enough," he muttered.
"Tom doesn't strike me as someone who'd do all this just to help another person," Harry said, shaking his head.
Ron gritted his teeth. "Once Malfoy takes control of the castle, he'll turn it into a training ground for dark wizards, churning out Voldemort's loyal followers."
"That's something Voldemort would love to see happen," Ron concluded.
Harry hesitated but then reluctantly nodded. "You might be right."
The whole situation weighed on him like a thick fog.
There were so many unanswered questions, especially about Voldemort's motivations. Back in Harry's first year, Voldemort had gone to great lengths to regain power, even hunting unicorns in the Forbidden Forest and enduring the agony of curses.
If regaining strength was his only goal, wouldn't he have been safer doing so outside Hogwarts, away from Dumbledore?
Or could Ron's theory be correct? Was Voldemort truly risking everything to help Malfoy?
Harry made a mental note to consult the Sorting Hat about writing a ballad to celebrate the extraordinary love between the two.
Ron's rant about the Malfoy family's dark history was interrupted when a silver cat appeared, silently padding toward Harry.
It stopped at his feet, and McGonagall's voice emerged from it:
"Harry, come to the Headmaster's office. The password is 'Cauldron Cake.' Be careful on your way."
Nobody else seemed to notice.
The Patronus vanished in a wisp of smoke.
"Now? Right after another attack?" Hermione asked in a hushed, incredulous tone.
"It must be urgent," Harry said, exhaling deeply. "If anyone asks…"
"You're asleep," Ron replied promptly. "I'll let Seamus and Neville know."
Harry nodded, heading toward the dormitory. Once inside, he donned his Invisibility Cloak and slipped away toward the Headmaster's office.
In the office, three people awaited him: McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore.
"Harry, there you are," Dumbledore greeted, beckoning him over.
"Still no sign of Tom?" Harry asked flatly.
"He's likely in Lockhart's possession," Dumbledore replied, gesturing for Harry to sit as he poured a glass of milk. "You've noticed it too, haven't you?"
Harry took the glass. "The increase in magical strength, though faint, is noticeable. Last time, he couldn't even sense my spells."
"Last time?" McGonagall interjected, clearly shocked. "What last time?"
"Harry, when did you confront Lockhart?"
She had expected Harry to be more restrained this term—his intensive supplementary classes and training occupied nearly every evening except Sunday.
But things rarely unfolded as she imagined.
First, there had been the incident of sneaking into the Slytherin common room and stealing a portrait, coinciding with the student attacks. While linked to Gryffindor's trials, it was still a significant breach.
And now this? Casting spells on Lockhart? All without a word?
"Before the term started, in Diagon Alley," Harry admitted. "He wanted to borrow my fame without compensating me. I lost my patience and hit him with a spell."
"Harry, abusing magic…" Dumbledore began sternly.
"It was just a softening charm to make him trip and embarrass himself in public," Harry interrupted.
Dumbledore sighed. "Fine, let's not dwell on that. More importantly, I used some less-than-noble methods to investigate Lockhart's office earlier…"
"Dark magic?" Harry interjected.
Dumbledore hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Yes, specifically involving soul magic. I detected traces of a tainted soul in Lockhart."
"But Voldemort's fragment still hasn't been found."
"You're a white wizard," Harry stated emotionlessly. "He's a Dark Lord. When it comes to dark magic expertise…"
Snape sneered. "Potter, spare us the naivety. Albus's knowledge of dark magic likely rivals the Dark Lord's."
Dumbledore waved a hand. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Severus. But Voldemort's mastery far exceeds mine in this field. I don't know how he's hiding, but given time to study, I might find a way to uncover him."
"We don't have time," he added gravely.
Looking at Harry, Dumbledore continued, "Once I'm gone, you'll be Voldemort's primary target."
"The Ministry will send Aurors—Kingsley Shacklebolt will lead them. He's someone you can trust completely."
"And you can also trust Severus without hesitation. He'll protect you."
Harry nodded silently.
He didn't question why Dumbledore was leaving this responsibility on his shoulders.
Without Dumbledore as a counterbalance, and with Voldemort growing stronger, Harry knew he'd inevitably become the next target.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak further, but a harsh knock interrupted him. With a wave of his wand, the door swung open, revealing a plump man in a pinstriped suit and bright red tie.
He stormed in, radiating fury—until he reached the middle of the room, where his steps faltered.
By the time he stood before Dumbledore, all the bravado had drained from him.
"Albus," he said, his voice laced with forced confidence. "I didn't expect to meet under such circumstances."
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Powerstones?
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