human again / hp.

Chapter 53

The library was steeped in an almost oppressive quiet, broken only by the faint scratching of quills against parchment and the occasional rustle of pages being turned. The dim light from enchanted lamps cast a warm glow over the rows of bookshelves, but it didn't reach far, leaving the far corners shrouded in shadow. I was seated at a desk near one of the large windows, where the faint reflection of flickering torchlight danced against the frosted glass. Outside, snow blanketed the grounds, glinting faintly in the moonlight.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and sighed softly, staring at the text in front of me. The words had long since stopped making sense. With a small shake of my head, I closed the book and leaned back, stretching my arms to ease the stiffness in my shoulders. It was late—much later than I had realized—and if I didn't leave soon, I'd risk being caught out after curfew.

Reluctantly, I began gathering my things, stacking my parchment neatly and slipping it into my bag alongside my quill and ink bottle. The sound of the bag's clasp snapping shut seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. I stood, slinging the strap over my shoulder and pushing my chair back into place before heading for the door.

The corridor outside was dimly lit, the flickering torches mounted along the stone walls casting uneven light that sent long, dancing shadows across the floor. The silence here was different from the library's—it felt heavier, almost watchful, as if the castle itself were waiting for something. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself, its warmth a small comfort against the chill in the air, and quickened my pace.

Each step echoed faintly in the corridor, a steady rhythm broken only when I rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone coming the other way.

"Careful!" I exclaimed, taking a startled step back.

"Sorry," came a familiar voice, and I looked up to see Harry standing before me. His dark hair was, as always, a mess, and his glasses caught the torchlight, reflecting it back in tiny golden flashes. His green eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Oh," I said, my voice faltering for a moment. "Hi, Harry."

"Hi, Celeste." He adjusted the strap of his own bag on his shoulder, his gaze studying me curiously. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Library," I replied, holding up my bag for emphasis. "Lost track of time. You?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his expression sheepish. "Couldn't sleep. I needed a walk."

For a moment, we just stood there in the dim corridor, neither of us moving. The silence between us wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it felt charged with something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I shifted my weight, trying to find the right words, but my thoughts were tangled. Finally, I blurted out the question that had been gnawing at me since the weekend.

"Why didn't you throw a snowball at me?"

Harry blinked, visibly caught off guard. "What?"

"In Hogsmeade," I clarified, feeling my cheeks heat. "I know it was you under that cloak. You hit Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle—and even Ron and Hermione got splashed a bit—but not me."

A slow grin spread across Harry's face, and he rubbed the back of his neck again, a habit of his when he was nervous. "Well, you didn't do anything, did you? You just stood there."

"That's it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because I didn't do anything?"

Harry hesitated, glancing down at his feet. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice quieter. "I guess I didn't think you deserved it. You're... different from them."

"Different how?" I asked, curious now.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting mine. "You don't act like them. Like a Malfoy. You're... nicer."

I felt a warm flush creep up my neck and was grateful for the dim lighting. "Well," I said, trying to sound casual, "you're not as insufferable as I thought you'd be either."

Harry laughed again, the sound light and unguarded. "Thanks... I think?"

We both laughed softly, the sound echoing faintly in the still corridor. When the laughter faded, Harry's expression grew more thoughtful.

"You knew it was me?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"Of course," I said, my tone matching his. "I've known about the cloak since first year. I haven't forgotten."

At the mention of our first year, something in Harry's gaze softened, his eyes searching mine. "You haven't, have you?"

I shook my head, a wistful smile tugging at my lips. "No. I remember everything. Fluffy, the Devil's Snare, the chessboard..." My voice trailed off, the memories washing over me like a tide. "It was simpler back then, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded, his expression distant as he looked past me, as if seeing those moments play out again in his mind. "Yeah. It was."

The quiet returned, but this time it felt heavier, laden with the weight of all the things left unsaid. Finally, Harry broke the silence, his voice gentle but probing.

"Why did you pull away, Celeste? After the Chamber last year, I thought..."

I looked down at my feet, unable to meet his gaze as the weight of his question pressed down on me. "It's... complicated," I said after a long pause. "My family's been different lately. Better. My father's been... kinder. I guess I'm just trying not to disappoint him."

Harry was silent for a moment, and when I finally glanced up, his expression was understanding, almost painfully so. "I get it," he said simply.

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded, his eyes earnest. "I mean, not exactly. My family's... not like yours. But I know what it's like to feel torn."

I bit my lip, a lump rising in my throat. "It's not that I don't care about you... or Ron, or Hermione. I do. It's just hard."

"I know," Harry said softly. He reached out, hesitated for a heartbeat, then gently touched my arm. "But we're still here, Celeste. If you ever need us."

His touch was light, his words sincere, and for a moment, I couldn't find my voice. I wanted to thank him, to tell him how much those words meant, but all I could do was nod.

"Come on," Harry said after a moment, letting his hand fall back to his side. "We should get back to the common room before Filch finds us."

"Yeah," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

We fell into step together, our footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridors. The castle felt less daunting with Harry by my side, his presence a quiet reassurance. The flickering torchlight bathed the stone walls in a warm glow, and for the first time all evening, I felt a sense of peace.

When we reached the portrait of Sir Cadogan, Harry gave the password, and the portrait swung open, revealing the lively Gryffindor common room. The warmth and chatter spilled out into the corridor, a stark contrast to the quiet we'd just left.

"After you," Harry said, stepping aside with a small smile.

"Thanks," I said, stepping through the portrait hole.

Inside, the fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting golden light over the familiar faces scattered around the room. A few students glanced up as we entered, but most were too engrossed in their conversations or games of Exploding Snap to pay us much attention.

Harry and I exchanged a brief smile before parting ways—he headed toward the boys' dormitory stairs, and I found an empty armchair near the fire. 

As I sank into the chair, I couldn't help but feel a strange warmth in my chest. It wasn't just the fire or the fact that I'd made it back before curfew. It was Harry—the way he'd looked at me, the way he'd spoken to me.

We're still here, Celeste.

For the first time in a long while, I believed it. Maybe things didn't have to be so complicated after all.