Memories of the Heart || Harry Potter x Reader

Y4 ~ The Goblet of Fire

The day had drawn out in waves of hushed whispers and bold, eager footsteps echoing through the stone corridors of Hogwarts. Seventeen-year-olds from Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts alike had lined up throughout the day to drop their names into the enchanted Goblet of Fire, each one adding to the buzzing anticipation. Now, with dusk painting the castle and grounds in honeyed shades of amber, there was a rare serenity about the evening, the kind that only made the charged atmosphere in the Great Hall all the more exhilarating.

Y/N, Harry, Hermione, and Ron strolled slowly toward the Great Hall, the golden light from the setting sun casting shadows that danced along the walls. The familiar, comforting smell of fresh parchment and autumn leaves mingled in the air, but something in Y/N's demeanor was different tonight. Her gaze, usually bright with curiosity or excitement, was downcast, her steps lagging just a little behind her friends. Her fingers held a crumpled letter, clenched tightly in her hand as if loosening her grip might let her emotions slip out uncontrollably.

Hermione , noticing Y/N lagging behind, paused, letting Harry and Ron walk a few steps ahead. She tilted her head to catch her eye, her voice soft with concern. "Y/N, something on your mind?"

At first, Y/N hesitated, clutching the letter in her hand so tightly her knuckles were white. "It's just... unexpected." Her voice cracked slightly, and she looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I hadn't heard from him in months. I thought maybe he'd... disappeared for good this time." She felt a pang of guilt wash over her as she admitted it. The letter in her hand was a reminder of the connection she so desperately wanted but feared losing every time she acknowledged it.

Hermione, usually so quick with a quip, just nodded. She didn't push, sensing the depth of her uncertainty. Instead, she offered a comforting pat on her shoulder, letting her know he was there without demanding answers.

Ron, now over hearing the girl's conversation, decided to pitch in, "If he wrote back, it means he's still looking out for you. I'm sure there's nothing he wouldn't do to make sure you're safe."

Harry noticed her quiet mood first and slowed his pace, casting a worried glance in her direction. Ron, too, looked back, his expression softening with concern. "Y/N," he began gently, his usual playful tone muted, "I know you're still upset. But... it was sensible to tell him about the scar, you know? About it hurting."

Y/N looked up, meeting Ron's gaze with eyes that held a mixture of anger and helplessness. "But now he's coming back... right to Hogwarts, just because of this scar—mine and Harry's." Her voice wavered, the words coming out in a frustrated huff. "I never wanted him to come back just because of me. It's not safe yet..."

Hermione stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her eyes were filled with understanding, and she spoke with a calm, steady resolve. "He wouldn't come back if he didn't want to. You did the right thing by telling him, Y/N. I think he's glad you told him, really."

Harry nodded, watching Y/N with a quiet, shared understanding that needed no words. "It's true. Besides, this will be the first time you'll get to see him since... since everything happened last year," he said softly. "And for me too. I mean, it's like having a bit of family back. He's like... well, you know, a part of us both."

Ron grinned, his face brightening as he tried to lighten the mood. "Plus, look on the bright side—if anyone's an expert at sneaking around Hogwarts and avoiding danger, it's him, right?"

Y/N's lips tugged into a slight smile, a trace of her usual warmth breaking through her worried frown. The thought of seeing her father again was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. For so long, Moony had been her only source of updates, the only connection to a father she knew only through whispered stories and half-forgotten memories. But now, he was close, close enough that the letter in her hand felt like an impossible weight.