Mourning Dove

Chapter 1

The tall, imposing figure of Albus Dumbledore stood at the head of the long table during their monthly staff meeting. His blue eyes twinkled with a hint of concern as he spoke, interrupting Minerva's presentation.

"Severus," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying easily over the chatter of the other professors. "The wards in the dungeons near your rooms have picked up an energy spike. It is most likely just a ghost beginning to form, but it would be best to check on it just in case."

Minerva let out an exasperated huff, clearly annoyed at being interrupted by Dumbledore for such a seemingly trivial matter.

"It appears that, as the only person living down in the dungeons, it is now my responsibility to go babysit a new ghost," Severus muttered with a sneer, his thin lips twisting into a scowl as he spoke. The thought of having to deal with yet another spectral presence was not something he relished.

"If you would, Severus," Albus said, his firm tone leaving no room for argument.

With a resigned sigh, Severus stood up and smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on his robes before making his way out of the staff room. It was a welcome excuse to leave the stuffy staff room and escape the voices of other heads of house, who would undoubtedly continue to criticize his strict behavior towards students even without him there.

As he walked through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, Severus couldn't help but wonder why he had been chosen to check on this newly forming ghost instead of the Bloody Baron or the Grey Lady who typically handled such matters. The castle was eerily quiet as he made his way into the deepest parts of the castle, shadows dancing along the walls and giving him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

As Severus neared the dungeons, a shiver ran down his spine, and he felt a powerful, haunting energy filling the halls. It was like a rolling, chilling mist, surrounding him as he walked. It was unmistakable - the presence of a ghost beginning to form. Whoever this ghost may have been in their lifetime, they were certainly a formidable mage to still wield such power even in death.

Severus wracked his brain, trying to think of any recent deaths that could be connected to this presence. But the Daily Prophet had become mundane since the fall of the Dark Lord six years ago, and deaths were now few and far between. The Potters had been the last widely reported casualties, excluding those Death Eaters who had been sentenced to the dementors. But now, as he descended into the darkness of the dungeons, Severus couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss.

As Severus turned the corner to the hallway leading to his rooms, he was met with a thick fog of blue-tinted mist. Swirling and spiraling in a mesmerizing dance, the mist seemed to be forming into one being before his very eyes. The surrounding mist was being pulled into the central mass, creating an intense pressure that threatened to knock Severus off his feet.

Severus was in awe of the immense power emanating from this ghostly figure. He couldn't help but question how a mere ghost could possess such strength. If it was another troublesome poltergeist like Peeves, he feared for the safety of Hogwarts. The castle's chances of surviving until summer break seemed slim if it had to deal with another destructive entity. According to the Bloody Baron, it took nearly 100 years to tame Peeves and limit his harmful and sometimes deadly antics to mere pranks and harmless tricks.

The pressure and building magical energy suddenly vanished without warning, causing Severus to stumble unsteadily in its absence. The swirling cyclone of mist collapsed in on itself with a loud crack, unleashing a shock wave of cold, icy power that sent shivers through Severus' entire being. In the center of the hall stood no longer an indistinct fog, but the solid form of a small child.

As Severus laid eyes on the ghostly figure, he was overcome with a sense of deep sadness for such a young soul to have been taken from the world too soon and then trapped in this half-life as a ghost. The child's translucent form seemed to flicker and waver as if struggling to maintain its presence in the mortal realm. It was a haunting and melancholic sight that left Severus feeling both mournful and unsettled. It was a tragedy beyond words.

The small child appeared to be a boy, no more than four or five years old. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his frail frame, the fabric worn and threadbare in some places. Dirt and grime covered his face and hands, and his hair was matted and unkempt. As the boy slowly regained his senses and sentience filled those eyes, Severus could also see the color began to leech back into his translucent body, giving him a more human appearance.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Severus recognized who the boy was.

Those once bright green eyes, now dulled by the grip of death, were still recognizable as belonging to Harry Potter - "the boy who lived". Except, it seemed that he was no longer alive. According to Dumbledore, the boy should be seven years old and living happily with his loving family in the muggle world. But instead, here he stood in this dark hallway, a mere ghost of himself. Severus had no doubts that this was indeed Harry Potter, even without seeing the infamous lightning-shaped scar that marked him as the chosen one on the night his family was brutally murdered by the Dark Lord.

Severus then knelt down in front of the small child and he noticed dark hand-like impressions covering the boy's throat - likely what had killed the boy. Strangulation was a slow and painful demise, not a way Severus ever wanted to go. A wave of sorrow washed over Severus for this innocent child who had suffered such an agonizing fate. But alongside the sadness, an anger rose within him at the realization that nobody had known of Harry Potter's plight and they were too late to save him now.

The weight of failure pressed heavily on Severus as he stood before yet another fallen Potter. It was even worse than Lily's death, the woman he had loved and lost so long ago. Not only had he failed in his promise to protect her son, but he hadn't even considered the need to keep Harry safe until he arrived at Hogwarts. The realization was like a stab to the heart.

But even in death, Severus knew he had to honor his duty and do everything in his power to help Harry. As Severus gazed upon the ghostly body of the boy who had made it to Hogwarts four years earlier than expected, Severus knew he had to do everything in his power to help him even if the boy wasn't amongst the living anymore.

His vow to Lily and the Headmaster demanded it.

He must find out who killed Harry, retrieve his body for a proper burial next to his parents in Godric's Hollow, and most importantly, help Harry find peace and reunite with his family beyond the veil. It was a daunting task, but Severus couldn't let himself rest until it was done. He had failed to protect Harry from harm in the first place, and standing face-to-face with this failure only fueled his determination to make things right. But first, he needed to alert the others and devise a plan. Time was not on their side.

With a flick of his wand, Severus summoned his doe Patronus, its ethereal form gliding gracefully through the air. The magical creature's form seemed to dance and swirl as it hovered before him, patiently waiting for his message.

"Tell Dumbledore," Severus commanded, his voice grave and urgent, "that we have a new ghost haunting the castle, and someone needs to be sent to Harry Potter's relatives to assess if anyone still lives there." His words hung heavily in the air. "Harry Potter is dead." The weight of this revelation felt heavy on Severus' heart as he watched his Patronus disappear through one of the castle's stone walls, quickly making its way up to the Headmaster.

The stone floors beneath Severus' knees, where he remained kneeling on the ground, seemed to reverberate with a sorrowful melody. It was almost as if Hogwarts itself shared in the grief of a young life taken too early from this world.