Harry Potter: The Blogger of Hogwarts

Dear Harry,

Don't be absurd. Of course you're not disrupting my vacation. It's always a pleasure to get correspondence from a friend. I'm glad you're getting along well with Professor Lupin. I suppose in retrospect it shouldn't have been all that surprising he's a werewolf, given that he has a substitute every full moon, but still, it's a bit of a shock. And don't worry, my lips are sealed!

Oh, I've just been having the most magnificent time in Malta. My parents and I visited the museum of the famous Maltese wizard Sellem bin al-Sheik Mansur, who was an expert in geomancy and even taught members of the Knights of St. John how to use the art. He wasn't quite subtle enough, though, and got caught by the Inquisition in 1605. He was tied to a pillory in the main square of Valetta and then sent to prison for a few months. In subsequent decades, Sellem would become one of the foremost advocates for what would later be known as the International Statute of Secrecy.

But listen to me chatter away about historical minutiae! You've been a bad influence on me! I've talked to my parents about gaining custody of you and they decided they need more information. We have a meeting planned with us, Remus, and Ms. Cheatham at her law offices in Diagon Alley. They're going to ask you questions about your life with the Dursleys. Please answer them honestly and with as much detail as you feel comfortable with (but no more, please!) I really hope we can get you out of there, Harry.

Otherwise, this has been a fairly uneventful trip. Though in an unsettling coincidence, a Russian dissident was shot dead in an ice cream parlor we frequented that very morning. It was a good thing we didn't decide to go there later! At that point, my parents were getting some alone time in their hotel while I was in the National Library of Malta soaking in the beautiful neoclassical atmosphere.

Hoping you're having a lovely holiday too!

Your friend,

Hermione

...

I am having the best holiday I've ever had. Of course, there isn't exactly fierce competition for that slot, because, you know, the Dursleys. But still, I'm living my best life.

It didn't exactly start out that way. Dumbledore has been…well, I'd really prefer not to use the word stalking and I'm not even sure it's legally applicable, since it's his school, but I'm pretty sure he's been stalking me. I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye. It's very hard to miss him, since he wears robes that probably went out of fashion in the 60s. And by 60s, I mean the 1860s. They're bright neon and almost blinding. I've seen him in no less than fourteen of my classes over the last few weeks. I asked Professor Sinistra what could be done, but she says he has the right to sit in on whatever classes he wants and unless he does anything unseemly in my direction, there's really nothing she can do.

Dumbledore's been trying to engage me in conversation. I tend to just nod and smile a lot, but he's persistent. I don't understand half of what comes out of his mouth. The sad thing is, every so often, I can see the man he used to be, the man my parents followed willingly. Sometimes he comes up with a particularly wise piece of advice or tells a fascinating story about the two most recent magical wars. Now he's just become this bumbling, paranoid shell of himself and it's a real tragedy. My parents would be turning in their graves.

One day, a week before the end of term, he cornered me just outside the Slytherin Common Room. "Ah, Harry, old bean. Good to see you again. Fancy running into you again." I bit back the retort I wanted to give. I'm not stupid, just incredibly reckless and erratic. I know provoking a very powerful wizard, even if he's gone senile, is a bad, bad idea. "What a remarkable coincidence."

"Yes, sir," I replied dutifully. "I'd love to stand here all day chatting, but I have homework to do. Unless you'd like to exempt me from it?" I was genuinely willing to subject myself to hours of rants, no matter how insane, if he actually did that. Homework is awful.

He did not look amused. "Harry, we recently had a theft. The Philosopher's Stone was taken. And I suspect you had something to do with it."

I plastered my best innocent look on my face. It was pretty good if I did say so myself. It even took in McGonagall sometimes (though not very often). "Oh, sir, I don't know why you'd think that!"

"Multiple sources have told me you posted on your…bog that you stole the Philosopher's Stone."

"Oh, don't be silly, sir, everyone knows electronics don't work at Hogwarts," I lied brazenly.

He crossed his arms. "You are wearing a T-shirt that says 'I Found the Philosopher's Stone and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.'"

"Muggle trend." I was disappointed he didn't mention how swanky I looked in it.

Dumbledore didn't look very impressed. "Harry, I want you to swear on your parents' grave that you did not steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"I did not steal the Philosopher's Stone," I said, this time completely truthfully. I recently received a letter saying the Stone was a fake, so it wasn't the Philosopher's Stone I stole.

Incredibly, this seemed to work. "Very well, my boy," Dumbledore said in a much jauntier tone. "I suppose I'll have to look elsewhere for the culprit." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a very thin silvery grey cloth. "A Christmas gift for you, Harry." I gave a polite smile, even though I didn't see what use I would have for it. Dumbledore chuckled. "Put it on."

.....

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