human again / hp.

Chapter 40

The Great Hall had transformed into a scene of celebration, buzzing with an energy so vibrant it felt almost alive. The golden plates and goblets on the long house tables gleamed under the enchanted ceiling, which tonight was a deep indigo velvet scattered with glimmering stars. It was as if the sky itself had come to Hogwarts to rejoice. Laughter and chatter filled the air, voices overlapping in a joyful symphony that seemed to chase away the oppressive silence and fear that had gripped the school all year.

I hesitated at the doorway, my heart pounding against my ribs as I took it all in. For once, the tension between the houses seemed to have eased. Students mingled in a way they rarely did, the boundaries between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin blurring in the face of shared relief.

The Gryffindor table, as expected, was the most animated. A group of first years were waving their arms enthusiastically, recounting exaggerated tales of Harry Potter's heroics to a captive audience. Harry himself was sitting with Ron and Hermione farther down the table. Hermione's hands flew as she gestured animatedly, clearly catching up on everything she'd missed during her petrification. Ron's cheeks were flushed with excitement, and even Harry—usually more subdued—wore an easy smile. His green eyes sparkled in a way I rarely saw, reflecting the warmth of the occasion.

I slipped into a seat at the end of the table, my heart pounding harder now. A tall Gryffindor boy sat between me and the Slytherin table, a fortunate barrier that kept Draco from noticing my choice of company. It was a risk, sitting this next to Harry and his friends, but after everything that had happened, I couldn't bear to remain distant tonight.

Above us, the golden Gryffindor lion banner seemed to shimmer more brightly than usual, as if it, too, was celebrating the courage of its house.

"Celeste!" Hermione's voice broke through my thoughts. She had caught sight of me and was beaming, her earlier doubts about me seemingly forgotten. "Did you hear? Harry killed the Basilisk! And saved Ginny!"

Her voice was filled with pride, awe, and pure relief.

"I heard," I said, managing a small smile. "And freed my family's house-elf, Dobby, I hear."

Harry blushed faintly, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed by the attention. "I just... did what I had to do," he mumbled, his voice modest but genuine.

Ron leaned over, his grin so wide it nearly split his face. "You should've seen Malfoy's face when Dobby gave him that last shove. Priceless."

At the mention of my father, my stomach twisted painfully. I ducked my head, focusing on the goblet in front of me, tracing its intricate designs with my fingertip. "I'm sure he didn't take it well," I said softly.

Harry's voice grew quieter, and he glanced at me with an expression that was both cautious and curious. "Not at all," he admitted. His tone was gentle, almost sympathetic. "But... it needed to be done."

Hermione, ever the optimist, chimed in. "It's a victory for house-elves everywhere! Celeste, do you think your father will—"

"Not here," I interrupted quickly, casting a glance toward the Slytherin table. Draco was engaged in a heated conversation with Pansy Parkinson, his expression stormy. "Not tonight."

Hermione bit her lip, looking briefly contrite, while Ron shrugged and returned to his plate with a nonchalant wave.

The chatter in the hall quieted as Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table. He looked out over the students, his long silver beard catching the candlelight, his blue eyes twinkling with a mix of gravity and warmth. He raised his hands, and silence fell, the kind of reverent hush reserved for moments of importance.

"Another year at Hogwarts comes to an end," he began, his voice resonant and steady. "This year, perhaps more than any other, has tested us. We faced danger, division, and fear. But tonight, we celebrate courage, resilience, and unity."

The hall erupted in cheers, the Gryffindor table leading the charge with a roar of approval. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined in with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, their clapping and shouts echoing off the high stone walls.

Dumbledore waited patiently for the noise to subside before continuing. "Before we begin the feast, let us have a round of applause for Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey, whose Mandrake juice has been so successfully administered to all who had been Petrified. Also, in light of the recent events, as a school treat, all exams have been canceled."

Hermione whispered "Oh, no." as the hall burst into applause. Harry looked at me, unable to hide the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

I clapped along with everyone else, my hands stinging from the force of it. Pride swelled in my chest—for Harry, for Hermione, for Ron and for everything they had accomplished.

Dumbledore's expression grew more somber as he spoke again. "And," he said, his voice quieter but no less powerful, "we must not forget those who suffered but endured. To our Muggle-born students and their families, you are, and always will be, a cherished part of our Hogwarts family."

This time, the applause was softer but filled with heartfelt sincerity. My own clapping felt oddly loud in my ears, as though I was trying to make up for the prejudice of my Brother.

The feast wore on, the air growing warmer and lighter with every passing minute. The laughter in the hall seemed to lift the very stones of the castle, melting away the tension that had weighed us all down for so long. Students from different houses crossed the floor to talk, to laugh, to share stories. Even the usually stoic Ravenclaws seemed to have relaxed, their faces lit with rare smiles.

I let myself hope, just for a moment, that things could change. That Hogwarts could be a place where unity was more than an ideal. That maybe, just maybe, the chasm between my family's beliefs and my own choices wasn't impossible.

"Celeste?"

Harry's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to find him watching me. His expression was curious, hesitant, but kind.

"I just wanted to say..." He hesitated, then gave a small, genuine smile. "Thanks. For the letter. For helping, even if you couldn't be there."

A lump rose in my throat, and I nodded, words failing me.

The Gryffindor lion banner overhead seemed to glow brighter still, as though it, too, was proud. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged—not just in this hall, but in this moment, with these people.