Ancient Magician (Severus x Reader)

Chapter 27: The Deathday Party (Pt.2)

╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗

𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳 2 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 27: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 (𝘗𝘵.2)

"𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦..."

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

"A deathday party?" Hermione's eyes lit up the second I plopped down into the armchair beside her, freshly changed out of my damp robes. "How fascinating! I doubt many living people have ever been invited to one of those!"

She was practically bouncing where she sat, her Transfiguration book slipping off her knee. I raised a brow at her enthusiasm, but before I could say anything, Ron groaned without even looking up from his Potions essay. He was slumped over a scroll and chewing the end of his quill in frustration.

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" he muttered. "Sounds like the most depressing thing ever. It's like throwing a party for your own funeral."

Harry chuckled beside him. "Well, I guess for ghosts it's the closest thing to a birthday."

I stretched my legs out in front of the fire and gave a small shrug. "Nick did seem a bit put out about not being part of the Headless Hunt. Maybe throwing a party is his way of feeling important?"

Outside, the wind howled and lashed rain against the common room windows, now inky with night. But inside, it was warm and golden, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. Students lounged on squashy armchairs and rugs, some with books, others with chess sets or parchment sprawled across coffee tables. Fred and George were huddled at a corner table with a group of fascinated first-years, all gawking at a fire-dwelling salamander that was sitting in the middle of the table, tail curling in lazy orange wisps.

"I still say this is a brilliant idea," Fred announced, holding up a Filibuster firework. "Scientific inquiry!"

"Don't you mean an idiotic thing?" Percy stormed over, red-faced and furious. "Fred! George! That salamander is a school specimen, not a bloody fireworks show—"

Before he could finish, Fred dropped the firework—accidentally or otherwise—into the salamander's enclosure.

With a flash and a crack like thunder, the creature shot into the air, trailing golden sparks and screeching like a teakettle. It zipped around the room in dizzy spirals, fireworks bursting from its mouth like a Catherine wheel gone rogue. Everyone dove for cover.

I laughed despite myself as Percy roared after it, trying to catch it with a blanket. The salamander darted over his head, let off a shower of glittering tangerine stars, and finally launched itself into the fire with a loud pop.

"Merlin's pants," Ron wheezed, straightening from behind an armchair. "Did it just explode into the fire?"

"Definitely," Harry said, grinning.

In all the chaos, I'd completely forgotten about Filch and that strange envelope labeled "Kwikspell" I'd spotted in his office earlier. The memory slipped away like smoke.

By the time Halloween rolled around, I was seriously regretting my promise to Nearly Headless Nick. The Great Hall had been transformed as usual—bats swooping under the enchanted ceiling, which was stormy and moonlit, and Hagrid's pumpkins carved into lanterns big enough for a family of trolls. Everyone was talking about the feast that evening, whispering rumors about dancing skeletons and blood-flavored pumpkin juice.