"You are the love of my life," Y/N said. "I love you."
"If loving me comes with shame," Hermione breathed in a shaky breath. "I don't want your love."
In a matter of seconds, Y/N's world came tumbling down. Hermione's words hit her...
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"Y/N," Dumbledore began as Y/N stepped into his office, with Caspian lingering outside the door.
Y/N glanced briefly at Caspian before turning her attention to Dumbledore, who gestured for her to close the door, which she did promptly.
"Is Cedric alright, Professor?" Y/N inquired as she shut the door behind her.
"Cedric is..." Dumbledore trailed off, his gaze abruptly moving to the other side of the room.
Y/N's eyes swept the room before landing on Cedric, who was confined behind bars like a prisoner, curled up in the corner of the cell, cradling himself.
"What happened to him?" Y/N asked, taking a tentative step forward.
"He's been cursed," Dumbledore stated the obvious.
"I know that much," Y/N retorted, her gaze still fixed on Cedric before she turned to Dumbledore with a questioning expression. "Who cursed him?"
"Then why did you call me here?" Y/N asked, growing slightly nervous and instinctively taking a step back.
"The curse—it's special, new, freshly created. It's a mystery," Dumbledore began, cornering Y/N against the wall. "I didn't manage to completely remove the curse from Cedric, but when I subdued it, I discovered something... intriguing."
"It was a sort of liquid that came out of his eyes, we surmised it was one of the curse's effects," Dumbledore explained, scrutinizing Y/N suspiciously. "We analyzed its properties and detected a unique magical signature embedded within it."
"We've conducted various tests on the liquid, subjecting it to different elements. Surprisingly, only one showed a reaction: fire. Upon further analysis with Alastor's assistance, we identified a residue of Fire Blessing," Dumbledore disclosed, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness.
Y/N's features tightened, sensing the implication behind Dumbledore's words. "What are you suggesting, Professor?" she inquired, her voice betraying a hint of apprehension.
"Why did you orchestrate this, Y/N?" Dumbledore pressed, his piercing gaze probing into Y/N's thoughts.
Y/N's protest came quick and vehement. "I didn't orchestrate anything!"
"Please, tell me the truth, Y/N," Dumbledore implored, his voice gentle yet insistent, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deception.
"I swear, Professor, I had nothing to do with this," Y/N continue to protest, her heart beating out of her chest, one thought dawned on her—she'd been fucking framed.
Dumbledore's expression remained inscrutable as he regarded her. "Your word alone is not sufficient evidence, Y/N. We must consider all possibilities."
Y/N felt a pang of frustration and fear. How could she convince Dumbledore of her innocence without any proof? But she didn't do anything—or did she?
