human again / hp.

Chapter 100

The notice appeared overnight.

I spotted it on the way down to breakfast, nailed in Umbridge's signature twisted pink parchment, fluttering slightly in the corridor draft. A crowd had already gathered around it, murmuring, whispering, eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.

I didn't have to read it twice. The bold heading said it all:

— BY ORDER OF —
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS —
Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.
In accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven.

Signed,
Dolores Jane Umbridge
High Inquisitor

So it had happened.

The article had gone out.

I wasn't surprised—it was just a matter of time. Harry had mentioned it briefly in the Three Broomsticks last week, his voice low, uncertain. Luna had told him her father was willing to publish the truth. The real truth. I hadn't expected it to be today. Or that it would carry quite so much weight.

Whispers followed me all the way to the Great Hall. Every student had either read the article or was trying to get their hands on it. Daphne had tucked a copy into her potions book, eyes darting over the columns with focused intensity.

When she noticed me, she nudged the magazine forward, lips pressed into a line.

"Have you seen it?" she asked in a whisper.

"No," I said, heart skipping, "not yet."

She flipped the pages until she found it, then tapped her finger at the headline.

I stared.

"HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN" 

Below it, a grainy moving photo of Harry, grinning sheepishly at him from the front cover. In large red letters across his picture were the words.

And further down... the name.

Lucius Malfoy.

A chill ran down my spine.

He was named. Explicitly. Harry had said he'd do it—if it came to it. And now it was printed, circulating through the school like wildfire. Word was spreading even faster than the decrees.

My father was going to be livid.

At the Slytherin table, Draco was already ranting. His voice carried over the clinking of goblets and spoons. "This is libel! Absolute garbage! Luna Lovegood's father should be arrested for spreading this trash! Potter should be expelled!"

I looked away before he noticed me watching.

I didn't speak during breakfast. I barely ate. My stomach twisted into a tight, uneasy knot. The whole time, I waited for the letter. I knew there'd be one. A Howler, maybe. Or worse—an order from home.

And yet, deep beneath the fear, past the pressure of being a Malfoy, there was something else.

Pride.

I was proud of him.

Proud that he didn't let fear stop him. Proud that he had spoken up. That he told the world what we all should have. He stood where so many adults wouldn't. He dared to name names. Even my name—my family's—he hadn't tiptoed around.