The air on the Seventh Floor landing was thick with tension, an undercurrent of unease rippling through the gathered crowd. Celeste found herself pressed against the cool stone wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as she tried to catch a glimpse of the commotion.
"What's going on?" she asked, leaning slightly toward a nearby student, a second-year girl clutching her bookbag with wide eyes.
"Something's wrong with the Fat Lady," the girl whispered back, her voice quivering. "Nobody can get into Gryffindor Tower."
Celeste frowned, the pit of her stomach tightening. From her vantage point at the back of the crowd, she could see the students craning their necks, standing on tiptoes, desperate to get a better view. Murmurs of speculation filled the corridor, swirling together into a nervous hum. Whatever had happened, it wasn't just another prank or password mix-up.
Ahead of her, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were making their way up the staircase, pushing gently through the throng.
"What's the hold-up?" Ron asked loudly, his tone tinged with annoyance. "Only Neville ever forgets the password."
Before anyone could respond, Percy Weasley's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter like a knife. "Let me through, please. Excuse me, thank you, I'm Head Boy..." He puffed out his chest as he marched to the front of the group, clearly relishing the attention. The moment he reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, however, Percy's self-importance evaporated.
He stopped dead in his tracks. "Back! All of you!" he barked, his tone suddenly sharp and authoritative. "No one is to enter this dormitory until it has been fully searched!"
Celeste straightened, her curiosity intensifying. Searched? For what? She rose onto her toes, straining to see over the heads of the other students. At that moment, Ginny Weasley appeared, weaving through the crowd with a pale, stricken expression.
"The Fat Lady... she's gone," Ginny announced, her voice trembling.
Celeste's heart skipped a beat. Gone? Portraits didn't just disappear. They were enchanted to stay in their frames, their lives tethered to the very walls of the castle.
"Probably stuffing her face with the apples in that still life on the second floor again," Ron quipped, trying to inject some humor into the tense moment.
Celeste glanced at him, unimpressed. It was clear from Ginny's face that this wasn't some ordinary incident. Ginny shook her head fervently, her copper hair flying.
"No," she said, her voice rising. "You don't understand—"
She was cut off by Hermione's sudden gasp. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, her face pale with shock, and pointed toward the portrait.
Celeste shifted closer, finally catching sight of the Fat Lady's portrait—or what remained of it. The once-proud painting was shredded, long, jagged tears slashing through the canvas. Pieces of the painting hung in tatters, fluttering faintly as though still trembling from the attack. The frame around it seemed distorted, as if the force of the assault had twisted the wood.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, and Celeste heard a faint "Oh my goodness!" from somewhere nearby. Her chest tightened at the sight. It wasn't just vandalism; it felt violent, a cruel act that sent a shiver down her spine.
Just then, Dumbledore arrived, his sweeping robes brushing the floor as he cut through the crowd. His presence silenced the students instantly, their fear momentarily stilled by his commanding aura.
"Mr. Filch," Dumbledore said firmly, his sharp gaze darting to the caretaker, "round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."
Celeste could hear the urgency in his tone, a subtle break in his usual calm demeanor. Around her, the other students shifted nervously. The silence was broken by a loud, piercing scream that echoed down the corridor.
Everyone froze. The portraits lining the walls erupted into frantic whispers, their occupants peering cautiously from their frames. Some ducked away entirely, vanishing into far-off landscapes.
"There'll be no need for ghosts, Professor," Filch rasped, his voice low and sinister. His gnarled finger shot upward, pointing toward the ceiling.
Celeste's eyes followed his gesture, and there, high above them, she spotted the Fat Lady. The once-vivacious figure now cowered in a distant portrait not her own. Her painted form trembled violently, her usual regal demeanor shattered.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his voice soft but urgent. "Dear lady," he said, "who did this to you?"
The Fat Lady seemed unable to focus, her eyes darting wildly as she clutched her tattered skirts. Finally, she spoke, her voice faint and trembling. "Eyes like the devil he's got. And a soul as dark as his name." Her gaze flicked downward, meeting Dumbledore's. "It was him, Headmaster. The one they talk about. He's here. Somewhere in the castle. Sirius Black."
A wave of fear swept through the students like an icy wind. Sirius Black. The name had haunted the halls of Hogwarts ever since the start of term, whispered in terrified tones, but hearing it confirmed like this made it all too real.
Celeste felt her pulse quicken, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. He's here, she thought. In the castle. She scanned the room nervously, half-expecting Black to materialize from the shadows.
Dumbledore's voice cut sharply through the murmurs of the students, commanding immediate attention. "Secure the castle, Mr. Filch. The rest of you... to the Great Hall."
The crowd began to move, the fear palpable in their slow, reluctant shuffling. Celeste found herself caught in the tide of students heading down the staircase, her thoughts racing.
"How could he have gotten in?" a fifth-year boy muttered to his friend as they descended.
Celeste didn't hear the reply. Her mind was consumed by the image of the Fat Lady's shredded portrait and the sound of her trembling voice. She glanced at the Gryffindors near her—Hermione's face was pale with worry, and Ron looked uncharacteristically somber.
As they reached the Great Hall, its vast space now transformed into a refuge for the entire student body, Celeste couldn't shake the ominous feeling that had settled deep in her chest. The castle no longer felt safe.
YOU ARE READING
human again / hp.
Fanfiction"I already forgave you, so why can't you forgive yourself?" She's a Malfoy. He's a Potter. Celeste Malfoy has always walked a fine line between the world she was born into and the one she chose for herself. At Hogwarts, nothing is simple. Not friend...
