human again / hp.

Chapter 7

The Great Hall buzzed with the low hum of chatter and the clinking of cutlery as students settled into their seats for breakfast. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long beams across the tables, but despite the warmth of the light, I still felt cold. I pushed my food around on my plate, barely tasting it. My mind was elsewhere—tangled up in thoughts of my first few days at Hogwarts, my unsettling conversation with Draco, and the whispered fears that had followed me from home.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice Seamus's latest experiment with his glass of water until a flash of light erupted from the Gryffindor table. The explosion shook the air, and I jumped, looking over to see Seamus, singed but unharmed, surrounded by laughter.

The sharp, acrid smell of burnt herbs filled the air as Seamus's potion exploded, the smoke clouding the space around him. It left a lingering stench that mixed with the scents of breakfast, making it impossible to ignore.

"Seamus!" Hermione exclaimed, waving the smoke away from his face. He grinned sheepishly, his eyes darting around at the amused stares of the others.

"I thought it was supposed to work this time...", Seamus mumbled, shaking his head.

Before anyone could comment further, a soft rustling filled the air, and a flurry of owls swooped into the hall, delivering letters, parcels, and newspapers. The students immediately perked up, reaching for their morning deliveries.

"Mail's here!" Ron's voice rang out across the table, his eyes tracking the owls as they dropped packages with practiced precision.

I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. I knew my Brother told my Father about everything. But a  My fingers curled around my fork as I waited, and then, to my surprise an owl landed infront of me.

It was my father's owl.

A majestic black bird with silver feathers at its wings. It looked at me with its piercing yellow eyes, holding out a long, sleek envelope with the Malfoy crest stamped on the wax. My stomach dropped. The owl hooted softly before flying off, leaving me staring at the letter.

Celeste,

I trust that you are settling into your new house, though I must say that I am... surprised by your sorting. A Malfoy belongs in Slytherin, and I trust you remember that fact. You had no say in this, and it seems the Sorting Hat was not as astute as it should have been.

However, I trust you are doing your best to uphold the Malfoy name, even in this unexpected position.

As you well know, it is your duty to remember your lineage, and I expect you to act accordingly. While Gryffindor is far beneath what is expected of a Malfoy, you are there for a reason, and it is imperative that you make the most of it. Remember, you have no say in where the Sorting Hat places you, but you have every say in how you carry yourself from this point forward.

That said, I trust you will make the necessary adjustments and continue to prove your worth.

Your mother and I look forward to hearing of your progress soon. I trust you are not associating with undesirable students.

Your father,
Lucius Malfoy

I let the letter fall from my hands as I processed the words. His disapproval was palpable, even in the most carefully chosen phrases. I could almost hear the coldness in his voice as I read. The tension in my chest grew tighter, my thoughts racing. He didn't think I belonged here. Not in Gryffindor. But what choice did I have? The Sorting Hat had made its decision. I had no say.

I looked up, realizing I had been staring at the letter for far too long. The table around me had gone quiet, everyone focusing on their breakfast, but I couldn't help the pang of loneliness that settled in my stomach. Even here, in a place that was supposed to be a new beginning, I was tethered to expectations that felt suffocating.

As if on cue, a voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Hey, Celeste."

I turned to find Harry Potter standing beside me, looking awkward but determined. He gave a small, tentative smile, his glasses slightly askew from the morning's bustle.

"I, uh, just wanted to say thanks," he continued, shifting on his feet. "In Potions, when Snape asked that question, I had no idea. But you... you helped me out." His cheeks reddened slightly, and I could see that he felt a bit uncomfortable.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he meant at first. "You're welcome," I replied, keeping my voice neutral, though inside I was feeling a mix of emotions. "I just gave you the answer you needed."

"I know," Harry said, his voice quieter now. "But it was more than that. You didn't have to. And I... well, I didn't expect anyone to help me."

I wanted to tell him that it meant nothing, that I was just helping a fellow student—but something about the way he looked at me made my throat tighten. Harry Potter, of all people, had thanked me. Not just for the answer I gave in Potions, but for... just being there, being someone who didn't judge him before they knew him. Did he really mean it? Could I really trust that he saw me as more than just the daughter of Lucius Malfoy?

"You probably shouldn't thank me," I said quickly, glancing around the table to see if anyone was listening. "It was just Potions. No big deal."

Harry smiled again, but there was something softer in his eyes now, a hint of understanding in his expression. "It means a lot. Honestly. I know things are a little weird with... well, everything. But I'm glad we're in this together."

I didn't know what to say to that. I forced a smile, though it felt fragile. "Yeah. Me too."

Harry nodded, a little awkwardly, before he turned back toward Ron and Hermione, who were talking excitedly about their plans for the day.

As I watched Harry walk back to his friends, a strange feeling washed over me — He'd thanked me for being more than the expectations that followed me here. More than my father's name. And suddenly, I wanted more. I wanted to find out who I really was without all the weight of my last name on my shoulders. Could I be more than the daughter of Lucius Malfoy? Could I ever be just Celeste?