Memories of the Heart || Harry Potter x Reader

Prologue

Y/N Nightengale was a sweet but timid girl, her quiet nature shaped by a childhood spent without friends or family. Raised in a Muggle orphanage with no knowledge of her origins, she had grown accustomed to solitude. Her surname, Nightengale, offered no clues. She had searched through countless dusty tomes in the Hogwarts library, but the mystery of her past remained sealed, leaving her with little more than questions and a longing for answers.

When her Hogwarts letter arrived on her eleventh birthday, it had changed everything. For the first time, she belonged somewhere. The orphanage, loveless and cold, faded into the background as the castle walls became her sanctuary. Though Hogwarts had faced its share of darkness—Voldemort lurking as a professor her first year, and the Chamber of Secrets opening in her second—Y/N still felt safer there than anywhere else. At least those dangers seemed to revolve around Harry Potter, the Chosen One, and not her. At least, that's what she believed.

Even so, Y/N remained nearly invisible at school. She slipped quietly into the back of classrooms, eyes downcast, never raising her hand even when she knew the answers. Her intelligence flickered quietly, noticed only now and then by her professors. On rare occasions, their praise left her glowing with a fleeting warmth, though she quickly retreated back into the shadows.

Her one true friendship was kept hidden, tangled in family complications that forced secrecy. Yet that bond, fragile as it was, meant everything to her. Beyond that, the only person she felt entirely at ease with was Hagrid. He had gifted her a barn owl in her first year—a sleek, black-feathered creature she named Artemis. With Hagrid, she could simply exist, talking about magical creatures for hours, her guard lowered in a way it never was elsewhere.

Now, as she prepared for her third year, she packed her trunk with trembling hands, a blend of nerves and anticipation swirling in her chest. Artemis watched from her bed, his ruby red eyes calm and steady, as though reminding her she wasn't as alone as she sometimes felt.

The short walk from the orphanage to King's Cross seemed endless. Arriving early, as always, she slipped through the barrier onto Platform 9¾ and hurried to the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express. It was empty—just as she had hoped. She settled in, placing Artemis on the seat across from her. As she leaned back, something caught her eye—a crumpled sheet poking out from beneath the opposite bench. Curious, she reached down and pulled it free, discovering it was a discarded newspaper.

The headline made her breath catch: Sirius Black Escapes Azkaban.

Y/N's breath hitched as she stared at the grainy photograph of the man on the front page. His gaunt face was twisted into a grimace of anger, and his eyes, wild and haunted, seemed to bore into her soul. The article painted him as a dangerous, cold-blooded killer. Yet, as she read on, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this man's story, something the article didn't reveal.

"He almost looks...sad," she murmured to herself, barely above a whisper, as she stared at his image.

The train's whistle blew, signaling the start of the journey. Y/N placed the newspaper beside her, its pages rustling softly. She leaned back against the window, her chin resting on her palm as she gazed out at the passing scenery. The train began to move, the wheels clattering rhythmically against the tracks, lulling her into a peaceful daze.

Beyond the glass, the world unfurled in a watercolor blur of green and brown, the trees rising like solemn sentinels beneath a sky heavy with drifting clouds. Rain-slick grass shimmered faintly, catching the light as though dusted with silver. Y/N let a small, wistful smile curve her lips before closing her eyes, surrendering to the gentle rhythm of the train. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to imagine brighter possibilities, and in that fragile moment, hope brushed against her like a whisper.

...