Reborn into Harry Potter

halfblood price chapater 2

The office door closed behind us with a hollow thud, leaving the echo of Dumbledore's words clinging to my ears like frost. The stone steps spiraled downward, the portraits of past headmasters peering after us, their whispers prickling the air.

Hermione's pace was brisk, her shoes striking the stones like flint. I matched her stride, though my stomach twisted with each step.

Finally, halfway down the staircase, she spoke. "You can't let him make you into... that." Her voice cracked, quieter than the fire that had roared behind us. "A weapon."

"I don't have a choice." The words slipped out before I could stop them. And Merlin, they sounded hollow.

Hermione stopped abruptly, turning on me. The torchlight caught the shine of her eyes. "There's always a choice, Yn. Dumbledore might think fate is a chessboard, but we're not his pawns."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to take her hand and let her conviction anchor me. But the firelight in my memory-Dumbledore's tired eyes-wouldn't let me.

"I'm not Harry," I said at last, my throat dry. "If it comes down to it, he'll hesitate. I won't. That's why he asked me."

Hermione's jaw worked, as though biting back words that might shatter us both. "And if you lose yourself in the process?" she whispered.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. The castle seemed to know something had shifted-the shadows stretched longer, the chill of the halls sharper. Even the suits of armor felt as though they watched us pass.

When we finally reached the Gryffindor common room, the fire was burning low, casting the room in soft gold. Harry and Ron sat by the hearth, bent over a chessboard. Harry's laugh was small but genuine, the kind he rarely let slip these days.

For a moment, I envied their ignorance.

Hermione pressed a hand to my arm before we stepped forward. Her fingers lingered, firm and grounding. "We'll carry it together," she murmured, so softly Ron and Harry couldn't hear. "Whatever he asks of you... you won't face it alone."

I nodded, though my chest ached with the weight of it all. Dumbledore might see me as a blade to be drawn in the dark-but Hermione's words reminded me blades cut both ways.

And when the time came, maybe I wouldn't be just an eraser. Maybe I could be something else entirely.

The fire popped, scattering sparks into the air, and Harry looked up, grinning faintly. "Finally! We were starting to think Filch locked you two in detention."

Hermione smiled too brightly, sliding into the seat beside him. "Not tonight."

I forced myself to sit, but the words Dumbledore had spoken clung to me still: Kill when necessary.

And in that moment, surrounded by friends who didn't know the truth, I realized-necessary might come sooner than I wanted