Chapter 27: Ink That Told the Truth

The parchment sat untouched for nearly an hour. I stared at it from my desk in the Gryffindor dormitory, quill resting uselessly between my fingers. The castle was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed in on you, forcing thoughts to surface whether you wanted them to or not. Writing to my dad had never been hard before. He was the one person who had always felt solid. Unchanging. Safe. A Muggle in a world of magic, yes, but also a man who understood pressure, betrayal, and the cost of trusting the wrong people. Being Minister meant he carried secrets and burdens daily. Still, he always made room for me. I finally dipped the quill into ink and began.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this, so I’m just going to tell you the truth. Everything feels heavier lately. Hogwarts hasn’t been the place it used to be for me, and that’s saying something considering how strange it was when I first arrived.

The words came slowly at first, then faster, spilling out as if they had been waiting for permission.

I trusted someone here. I let myself believe I was safe with him, that he wouldn’t hurt me the way people sometimes do when pride and fear get in the way. I was wrong. Or at least, I thought I was.

My hand trembled, but I kept writing.

There were lies involved. Someone twisted the truth and let me see only what would hurt the most. I believed it. I walked away without hearing the whole story, and it broke something in me. I won’t pretend it didn’t.

I paused, swallowing hard, then continued.

For days, I was angry at everything. At him. At myself. At the fact that loving someone can make you feel so small when it goes wrong. I tried to convince myself I didn’t care anymore. I tried to be stronger by pretending I felt nothing.

A faint smile tugged at my lips, sad and tired.

You once told me that strength isn’t about never getting hurt. It’s about surviving the hurt without letting it turn you into someone you don’t recognize. I think I finally understand what you meant.

The quill scratched faster now.

He came to me today and told me the truth. I don’t think he’s lying. I don’t think he ever meant to hurt me. But that doesn’t erase what it felt like to believe I’d been replaced so easily.

Ink dotted the parchment where tears fell.

I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if I forgive him yet. I just know that I listened. And that mattered more than I expected.

I leaned back, exhaling slowly, then added the last lines.

I miss you. I miss sitting in your office while you pretended not to worry about the world for five minutes just so you could ask about my classes. I promise I’m okay. Not perfect. Not fixed. But okay enough to keep going.

I love you.

Melody

I read the letter once. Then twice. It was honest without being too raw. True without exposing every crack. I folded it carefully, sealing it with a simple charm instead of wax.

As I handed it to the school owl, I felt lighter. Not healed. But heard. And for the first time in a while, that was enough.