Through the Window

Chapter 1: Writings of a (Not-So) Madman

The year was drawing to a close. Finals week, when everyone crams as much information as they can down their throats and sleep-deprived students can be found fighting over books in the library,

Dolores Umbridge may have... resigned as headmistress a week ago, but the long-term consequences and ministry rules remained. Exams would be a great deal harder due to her no-magic rule. It hadn't entirely gone away, and magic in the classroom was highly regulated. Charms would be one of the worst classes under this rule.

"How are we supposed to identify high-level cursed objects if they're banned in Hogwarts!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration.

"A magical user is able to 'feel' the darkness," Harry quoted from the article, "but having a bad feeling doesn't tell you which spells are used, or how dangerous it is."

"Bollocks." Ron spat, "We've encountered plenty of cursed objects. At least we'll have an edge on everyone else; maybe Flitwick will curve our O.W.L.S. if everyone does terribly."

"The ministry is grading them, not him." She sighed.

Ron was right. How many cursed, dangerous items had they just stumbled upon? They all should at least be able to pick out the cursed items—the most important task in the exam—and might be able to tell the level of danger. Although most had been deadly, as opposed to minor maiming. He had almost died because of the cursed diary in their second year.

"Guys!" Harry yelled, receiving glares from the other students in the common room, "I think I know how we can get our hands on something cursed."

"What?" They lowered their heads as Harry beckoned them.

"What dangerous, cursed object did we find in our second year?" He said it teasingly.

"The diary!" Ron answered immediately.

"Dumbledore should still have it."

"What are we waiting for?" Hermione threw her notes and books in her bag and said, "Let's go!"

The trio trekked to Dumbledore's office. Even with the delayed curfews, they needed to be back in the common room in an hour. The familiar eagle statue opened as soon as they turned the corner. Odd.

Up the set of stairs, the wooden door was already ajar. Inside, Dumbledore was scribbling on parchment with Fawks perched at his side. He looked up through half-moon glasses at them and summoned three chairs in front of his desk.

"Hello, what do you need at this time of night?" His voice was tired but still held an optimistic tone.

"Professor Dumbledore, you know the diary Harry murdered in our second year?" They filed in, lounging on the chairs.

"Ah, yes. The memory of Tom Riddle. Why do you ask?" He sat down his quill and folded his hands.

"Well, Professor," Ron stood up straight, "our Charms exam has a unit on cursed objects, and we can't find any to research." We were asking if we could borrow it to know how these objects 'feel'."

Dumbledore smiled, "But of course. I may say, I thought cursed objects were under your Defence Against the Dark Arts exam." He rummaged through a desk drawer.

"The ministry decided that since it wasn't over neutralising nor destroying cursed objects, only detection and identification, that it would fit better." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"My apologies, the content of your ministry-approved exams has passed me by."

He took out the diary, the hole in the middle as mangled as the day he sank the fang into it, and the pages warped from water damage. Just sitting on the desk, they could feel the wave of dark, sickly magic over them.