human again / hp.

Chapter 42

The summer holidays had been unexpectedly peaceful, a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the school year. For once, there had been no sharp words from Father, no disdainful remarks about my grades or my Gryffindor house. In fact, he seemed almost... pleased. My exam results had been excellent, as they always were, and Draco's unwavering loyalty to Slytherin had been enough to deflect any lingering disappointment in me.

Most of the summer, I'd stayed close to Draco. It was easier that way. With him, I didn't have to wear the mask so tightly. He didn't question my quiet moments, my tendency to drift into thought. In turn, I endured his constant chatter about Quidditch, his endless tales of glory and ambition. It was a delicate balance, but one I could manage.

Mother had been surprisingly attentive, too. She had invited me to join her on her afternoon walks through the gardens and even let me help her arrange the bouquets for the drawing room. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to exist in this house without a sense of dread looming over me.

Until today.

I was sitting by the window in my room, absently flipping through a book about magical creatures, when there was a knock at the door.

"Celeste?" Mother's voice was soft but firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "Your father wants to see you and Draco in the study."

I closed the book and stood, smoothing the wrinkles from my robes. The request wasn't unusual—Father often held impromptu meetings when he had something to discuss—but the timing felt off.

"Yes, Mother," I said, crossing the room to open the door. She stood there, poised and elegant as always, her expression unreadable.

"Come along, dear," she said, turning on her heel. "Draco is already waiting."

The hallways of Malfoy Manor were as grand and foreboding as ever, the walls lined with dark paneling and tapestries depicting our illustrious ancestry. My footsteps echoed faintly as I followed Mother down the long corridor, the air cool and still.

"What's this about?" I ventured, though I wasn't sure I wanted the answer.

Mother glanced over her shoulder, her pale eyes narrowing slightly. "Your father will explain everything. Just remember to listen carefully. This is important."

That did nothing to ease the knot forming in my stomach.

When we reached the study, the door was already ajar. Inside, I could see Draco lounging in one of the high-backed chairs, his expression a mixture of curiosity and boredom. Father stood by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, the flickering light casting sharp shadows across his face.

"Celeste," Father said without turning. "Sit."

I stepped into the room and took the chair beside Draco. Mother closed the door behind us and moved to stand near the window, her gaze fixed on the gardens below.

Father turned then, his cold grey eyes sweeping over the two of us. "There are matters you need to understand," he began, his tone brisk and authoritative. "The Ministry is in chaos, as usual. They've proven once again that they cannot maintain order without resorting to absurd measures."

"Is this about the breakout?" Draco asked, leaning forward slightly.

Father nodded. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."

The name sent a chill through me, though I tried not to show it. I had heard the stories, of course—how Black had betrayed the Potters, how he had been one of Voldemort's most loyal followers. But the idea of someone escaping from Azkaban was almost unthinkable.

"How?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Father's eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of something—approval, perhaps? "That is the question, isn't it? The Ministry won't admit their incompetence, but they've taken a predictable course of action. Dementors will be stationed at Hogwarts this year."

Draco frowned. "Dementors? At the school?"

"Yes," Father said sharply. "To guard against Black, or so they claim. But the presence of those creatures is a double-edged sword. They don't distinguish between the innocent and the guilty."

I shuddered inwardly. I had never seen a Dementor, but I had read enough to know what they were capable of—their ability to suck the happiness from a room, to force you to relive your worst memories.

"Why would Black go to Hogwarts?" Draco asked, his brow furrowed.

"Because of Potter, obviously," Father said with a sneer. "Black is fixated on him. Whether to finish what Voldemort started or for some other twisted reason, it's clear that Potter is his target."

Father stepped closer, his gaze settling on me. "You must both exercise caution this year. Draco, I expect you to keep a close watch on Potter. If Black makes contact with him, I want to know immediately."

"And me?" I asked, though I could already guess the answer.

"You will conduct yourself as you always should," he said coolly. "Remember who you are, Celeste. Your actions reflect on this family."

The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders. As always, he expected perfection, obedience, and loyalty.

"Yes, Father," I said softly.

He studied me for a moment longer, then turned his attention back to Draco. "This is an opportunity, Draco. Do not waste it."

Draco nodded eagerly, his eyes gleaming with ambition.

When Father dismissed us, Draco practically bounced out of the room, already chattering about how he would keep an eye on Harry. I followed more slowly, my thoughts tangled and heavy.

Mother caught my arm as I passed her. "Celeste," she said quietly, her expression softer than I had expected. "Be careful this year."

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond.

As I walked back to my room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The summer had been so calm, so peaceful, but the storm was already brewing. And this time, I wasn't sure I could stay on the sidelines.