Ancient Magician (Severus x Reader)

Chapter 45: Diary

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𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 45: Diary

"𝐴 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑"

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I stirred in the stillness of night, half-awake and aware of Harry's gentle breathing beside me. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a silvery hue over the room. For a while, I simply lay there, eyes tracing the old wooden beams of the ceiling, thoughts drifting in and out like passing clouds. Something felt unusually quiet, too quiet, even for this hour.

That's when I noticed the window—open and slightly creaking with the wind. I frowned. I didn't remember leaving it like that. Concerned, I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could so as not to wake Harry, and padded barefoot across the floor, the wooden boards cool beneath my feet. Just as I reached to close the window, I heard it.

A faint creak from the corridor beyond the door. Then another. Followed by the softest of whispers—indistinct, but present, like a voice carried on a breeze. I froze.

The doorknob turned with a quiet, deliberate motion, just slightly, as if someone on the other side was contemplating entering. Then... a click. It returned to its locked position. The whispers faded, followed by the sound of retreating steps, slow and deliberate.

I stayed rooted in place for a heartbeat longer, then exhaled. It had to be Sirius and Sev. Probably checking on us, making sure we were alright. They'd both been hovering more than usual lately, ever since—

I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought before it swallowed me whole.

Still, curiosity nudged at me, refusing to let go. Carefully, I turned the doorknob and peered out into the hallway. Empty. Nothing but shadows stretching down the corridor, and the faint scent of old wood and candle smoke. I waited a few more moments, just in case, then slowly stepped back inside and closed the door with a soft click.

There was no hope for sleep now. I could already feel the way my thoughts were spiraling, too quick, too loud. So, I turned to my suitcase tucked beside the dresser and rummaged through it until I found the book.

The diary.

The one Uncle Albus had handed me not long ago, with that infuriatingly knowing smile of his.

FLASHBACK

We were on our way to Potions—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and me—navigating the corridors when suddenly, right at the turn near the staircase, Professor Dumbledore appeared as if he'd materialised out of thin air.

"Ah, Harry, Ron, Hermione... Y/N," he greeted us, his piercing blue eyes twinkling behind those half-moon spectacles.

Hermione, ever polite, straightened up and asked, "Is there something you need, Professor?"

He smiled. "Actually, yes. Just a quick word with Y/N. You're headed to Potions, yes?"

"Yeah," Ron replied, glancing between Dumbledore and me, visibly unsure.

Dumbledore waved his hand gently. "No need to fret. It shan't take long. You three run along, I'll return Miss Grimblehawk in due time."

Hermione gave me a little nod. "We'll let Professor Snape know you're with Dumbledore," she promised before hurrying off with the boys.

Once they disappeared around the bend, Dumbledore turned back to me and produced a thick, yellowish-covered book. He extended it wordlessly, smile ever-mysterious.