human again / hp.

Chapter 44

The moment I stepped into the Great Hall, the familiar hum of magic wrapped around me like a comforting cloak. The vast ceiling above mirrored the night sky in perfect detail, constellations twinkling against an inky blackness. It felt infinite, yet intimate, as though the heavens themselves had descended to keep watch over Hogwarts. Hundreds of candles hovered mid-air, their warm glow flickering gently, casting pools of golden light over the room. Long tables stretched out before me, the chatter and laughter of students creating a vibrant tapestry of sound that filled the space.

This was Hogwarts—a sanctuary of wonder and tradition that felt worlds away from the cold halls of Malfoy Manor. Yet despite the familiarity, I couldn't ignore the lingering unease that clung to me. The chilling encounter with the Dementor on the train felt like a bruise that hadn't yet healed, its oppressive weight still pressing against my chest. Even here, surrounded by warmth and magic, its shadow loomed in the back of my mind.

I moved purposefully toward the Gryffindor table, my steps quick and deliberate. Draco had already taken his place among the Slytherins, his pale hair catching the light as he leaned back in his seat, exuding his usual air of smug confidence. For a fleeting moment, I glanced his way, noting the easy laughter of those around him. The sight was a sharp contrast to the way he'd frozen on the train, and it only cemented my desire to avoid him tonight.

Sliding into an open seat near the middle of the Gryffindor table, I found myself beside Neville Longbottom. He glanced up as I sat, his round face brightening with a nervous but genuine smile.

"Hi, Celeste," he said softly, his voice almost lost in the din of the hall.

"Hi, Neville," I replied, offering a small smile of my own. His friendliness was a welcome relief, even if his demeanor was as timid as ever.

As I settled into my seat, the familiar faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione caught my eye a few places down. They were huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry's hands moved animatedly as he spoke, his emerald eyes alive with excitement, while Ron leaned back, grinning at whatever story his friend was recounting. Hermione, ever attentive, listened with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. For a moment, I felt a tug of longing—a pull to join their easy camaraderie and slip into the warmth of their circle.

But I stayed where I was.

Before I could linger too long on the thought, the gentle hum of the Hogwarts choir filled the hall, their harmonies rising and falling in a melody that seemed to weave itself into the very air. The ethereal music echoed against the stone walls, but it was distant to me, my thoughts still snagged on the tension of the day. I stole another glance at Harry and his friends, wondering how they could seem so carefree after the encounter on the train.

The song ended, and a hush fell over the hall as Dumbledore rose to his feet. His presence commanded immediate attention—not through force, but through the quiet, undeniable power of his charisma. His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon glasses as he surveyed the room, his smile as warm as the candles floating above.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he began, his voice rich and warm. "It is always a delight to see your faces again, though I must confess, I had forgotten just how much noise you're capable of making after a summer away."

A ripple of laughter spread through the hall, soft but genuine. Even I couldn't help but smile, the tension in my chest easing just slightly.

"I have a few things to say before we become thoroughly distracted by our excellent feast. I, for one, am most eager to try the flaming kiwi cups, which—while not without their risks for those of us with facial hair—are a culinary triumph."

At this, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and Dumbledore's grin widened mischievously. "Yes, yes. To business."

He shifted his tone, his words taking on a more formal cadence. "Firstly, I am pleased to welcome a new addition to our staff. Professor R.J. Lupin has kindly agreed to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Polite applause broke out, and I joined in, studying the man seated at the staff table. Professor Lupin was unassuming, with a kind but weary face. His robes were shabby, patched in several places, and he carried himself with a quiet humility that was the polar opposite of last year's self-absorbed Lockhart. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that perhaps this professor would finally live up to the reputation of the subject.

Dumbledore continued, his tone lightening again. "Additionally, I must announce the retirement of Professor Kettleburn, who has decided to dedicate more time to his remaining limbs."

Laughter rippled through the room, and Dumbledore's smile grew as he gestured toward a familiar figure. "Fortunately, I am delighted to inform you that our own Rubeus Hagrid will be taking up the post of Care of Magical Creatures."

Cheers erupted, particularly from the Gryffindor table. I clapped enthusiastically, watching as Hagrid, flushed with pride, beamed and waved from his seat. There was something heartwarming about his excitement, his happiness filling the hall like an oversized Patronus.

But as Dumbledore's expression turned serious, the warmth in the hall seemed to dim.

"Finally," he said, his voice grave, "on a more disquieting note, I must inform you that, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban."

The collective intake of breath was almost deafening. A chill seemed to pass through the hall, as if the very mention of the creatures was enough to summon their oppressive cold. My stomach turned as the memory of the Dementor from the train resurfaced, its skeletal hand, its icy grip on my soul.

"The Dementors will be stationed at the entrances to the grounds," Dumbledore continued. "While they are under strict orders not to enter the castle itself, you may see them as you go about your daily activities. Under no circumstances are you to approach them. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving."

I swallowed hard, my appetite vanishing. Across the hall, I caught sight of Draco miming a dramatic faint, drawing laughter from the Slytherins around him. I rolled my eyes, but his ease grated on me. How could he make light of something so horrifying?

As whispers and murmurs filled the hall, Neville's voice cut through the noise beside me. "Bit of a rough start to the year, isn't it?"

I turned to him, surprised by the insight in his tone. "What do you mean?"

He gestured vaguely toward the staff table, his expression troubled. "First Dementors, now Sirius Black on the loose. My gran hasn't stopped talking about it all summer. I bet we won't be able to go anywhere without a professor breathing down our necks."

I nodded, his words resonating with my own unease. "At least we're safer here than anywhere else."

Neville's smile was faint but sincere. "Yeah, I suppose."

The feast began, but I barely noticed the plates of food appearing before us. The conversations around me were a blur, though I found myself gradually drawn into Neville's quiet anecdotes. His stories, while simple, were oddly grounding, and I laughed despite myself when he recounted a disastrous attempt at Potions over the summer.

For the first time in what felt like hours, the weight on my chest lightened. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Maybe this year wouldn't be as lonely as I'd feared.