Later that night, beneath the pale moonlight filtering in through the common room windows, I examined the cape Lockhart had flung into the crowd. Still glittering. Still garish. "Not worth much here," I muttered to myself, fingers brushing over the sequined fabric.
From the shadows of my trunk, Dobby emerged with a pop, eyes wide and eager. He had sensed it, as always.
"Dobby knows a buyer! Bought many things from young Master Malfoy—very discreet. Mister Borgin is always buying!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Borgin and Burkes?"
He nodded so vigorously his ears flapped.
I twirled the cape once more between my fingers. "If I give this to you… will that free you?"
Dobby tilted his head and gave a small, knowing smile. "Only if it's meant to, sir."
I sighed and shook my head. "Then it's just a business deal. Try to get a good price for it. It's gaudy, but there's probably a market for this kind of ridiculous somewhere in Knockturn Alley. Make sure to inform the buyer that the cape in question belong to Gilderoy Lockhart who is is Order of Merlin Recipient of the 3rd Class. Ham it up as much as possible. If you look at the corner, you will his name embroidered on there. Also, let them know that many pureblood women would probably go crazy over it."
Dobby clutched the cape like a sacred relic. "Dobby will make Master Sky proud. Dobby always delivers value."
I gave a tired smile. "I know you will."
The following evening I was set to leave the Hospital wing when Snape appeared like a thundercloud. His eyes swept over me, then his wand flicked in a diagnostic pattern.
He muttered, "How you never ended up in Slytherin is astounding. The Hat must've gone senile."
Then he left. No potions, no parting jabs. Just that.
I stared after him. "Was… that a compliment?"
Harry snorted. "From him? That's practically a love letter."
I stood up with Hermione's help, exaggerating a limp. "I expect you all to carry my books for the rest of the term."
"Not likely," Hermione said, but she was smiling now. A little.
We walked slowly back to the common room, students parting like the Red Sea. There was talk of Lockhart—of his reputation cracking, of students finally seeing through the glitter and smile. Some of his fans had begun the awkward process of denial.
That night, I sat alone near the fire in the common room when I was called by Professor McGonegal to meet the Headmaster.
I made my way through the quiet corridors, the flicker of torchlight dancing along the stone walls. My steps slowed as I neared the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. I had been summoned.
I stood in front of the statue and stared at it. "Sherbet Lemon?" I tried.
Nothing.
"Cockroach Cluster? Fizzing Whizzbee?"
Still nothing.
"Sugar Quills."
With a quiet groan of stone grinding against stone, the gargoyle slid aside. Figures.
The spiral staircase moved on its own, as always, and I stepped onto it, rising slowly until the heavy oak door loomed before me. I knocked once.
"Enter," came the voice from within.
I stepped inside. Dumbledore was already standing near the hearth, looking far older than usual in the firelight.
His eyes flicked to me, soft and sharp all at once.
"I brought sherbet lemons," he said. "A peace offering."
I didn't take one.
"Are you feeling all right after the fiasco, Mr. Kingston? You gave quite a performance during that duel. I trust Madam Pomfrey's care has been sufficient?"
I raised an eyebrow. "It was."
Dumbledore gave a measured nod. "I'd like to revisit our previous conversation—about your absence from the castle grounds."
I didn't answer.
He sat across from me, lacing his fingers together. "The wards are… sensitive. You breached them without alerting the usual systems. That's not a small matter, Mr. Kingston."
"You make it sound like I planned to assassinate someone."
"No. But you did leave. And we noticed. That alone is telling."
I leaned back. "I could name several ways to bypass the wards, if I were the helpful sort."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened.
"Out of hundreds of students, you immediately tracked me. I'm flattered. Also, a little insulted."
He said nothing for a long beat. Then: "The wards are for everyone's safety. If you've found a way through them, it undermines the very security Hogwarts is known for."
I frowned. "'Safe' isn't the word I'd use for this place."
He tilted his head. "Explain."
"Let's recap last year, shall we? A magical stone of unspeakable power kept in a school. A troll. A Cerberus behind a door sealed with a charm first-years can undo. A corridor full of death traps. And let's not forget—you put a child through all of it."
Dumbledore's mouth flattened. "Students were warned—"
"In a school full of children," I cut in. "Telling them not to do something guarantees they'll do it. If you truly wanted it safe, why make the door so easy to unlock?"
"There were—"
"Death Traps Headmaster. Don't go suger coating what they were. You could have imposed an age line but you did not. You used Harry like a pawn. That wasn't protection. That was a test."
Dumbledore's voice was calm, too calm. "Everything I did was for the greater good."
I stared seriously. "Funny. Last person who said that ended up in Nurmengard."
His eyes snapped up. The shift was instant. He stood, reached across the space, and grabbed my shoulder. "How do you know that?"
I froze. 'Shit, me and my stupid mouth'
His grip wasn't painful, but it was firm. "Answer me. Now!"
I forced my voice steady. "I can't. I'm bound by magical contract."
His eyes narrowed. "Contract? With whom?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. And I would advise you strongly not to try Legilimency."
"I don't use Legilimency on students. It's illegal."
I scoffed. "And yet you quote the greater good like scripture. Forgive me if I'm not convinced."
He didn't respond. Instead, he studied me with quiet intensity. Then: "Even if I were that sort, I've seen what your mind does to intruders."
We both remembered. The screams. The shade of Voldemort clawing at the walls of my consciousness.
Then he asked quietly, "What do you intend to do, Sky? Are you a danger to others? I know we discussed this before but you seem to possess knowledge that is highly dangerous."
I sighed. "As I said before, I'm an independent. You may serve your greater good. I serve my own code—to protect myself and the handful of people I care about. I won't help either side. And I won't strike… unless I'm forced."
I met his gaze evenly. "Don't force me."
The fire had burned low by the time I returned to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione sat curled in an armchair, her book forgotten in her lap.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said, voice low. "Just… tired."
I dropped into the seat opposite her. Neither of us spoke for a while. The flames flickered and popped, the only sound in the room. My mind was still spinning. But I was here. I was still in control. For now.