human again / hp.

Chapter 57

The darkness is alive, pressing in on all sides, suffocating and endless. It feels heavy, almost tangible, as if it's wrapping itself around me like a shroud. I stand frozen in a cavernous space, both familiar and alien—a room carved from shadowy stone, the walls slick with moisture that gleams faintly in the dim light. Torches line the walls, their flames flickering weakly, barely illuminating the vast, oppressive gloom. The air is damp and cold, heavy with the scent of earth and something metallic, like blood.

I try to move, to step forward or back, but my feet are rooted to the cold, unforgiving floor. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears as if the room itself is amplifying my fear. There's a sensation, deep and primal, that tells me I'm not alone. Something is here. Watching.

"Celeste."

The voice slices through the silence like a knife, sharp and commanding, reverberating through the chamber. My father's voice. I whirl toward the sound, and there he is—tall, imposing, his figure emerging from the shadows like a ghost. The weak torchlight catches the sharp angles of his face, the cold glint in his blue eyes. His expression is unreadable at first, but as he steps closer, I see it—disapproval, cutting and cruel, etched into every line of his features. My stomach twists painfully.

"You've embarrassed us," he says, his tone low and controlled, but it brims with anger barely held in check. His words echo off the stone walls, growing louder with each repetition, until they seem to come from all around me.

"No," I whisper, but my voice is swallowed by the air, the word dissolving before it can reach him.

He takes another step forward, his dark robes billowing as though stirred by a wind I cannot feel. His presence looms larger, his face growing more distorted in the flickering light. Disapproval deepens into contempt, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. His eyes bore into me, as sharp as daggers, and I know whatever he's about to say will cut me deeper than any blade.

"You think you can betray your blood, your family, and we would not notice?" His voice is a hiss now, venomous. "You are weak, Celeste. A disgrace."

"I'm not," I try to protest, but the words catch in my throat. I can feel something tightening around my neck, invisible hands choking the life out of my defiance.

Behind him, a shadow shifts, stepping into the weak circle of light. My breath catches as Draco's face comes into view, his features sharp and cold, his mouth curled into a smirk that sends a wave of pain through my chest.

"She doesn't belong, Father," Draco says, his tone dripping with derision. His grey eyes lock onto mine with a venomous glee, as if he's been waiting for this moment. "She's soft. A traitor. Always has been."

"No!" I shout, the word ripping from my throat, raw and desperate. But neither of them seems to hear me. Or worse, they don't care.

Draco steps closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate, the smirk on his face deepening with every step. "You've chosen the wrong side, sister," he sneers. His voice is quiet but charged with malice. "But don't worry. You won't have to choose for long."

Before I can respond, he raises his wand, its tip gleaming faintly in the dim light. My panic rises like a tidal wave. I try to move, to run, but my feet remain rooted to the ground, as if the stone itself is holding me captive. I can only watch as his smirk grows crueler, his wand aimed directly at my chest.

Then, behind him, a figure emerges from the shadows. My blood turns to ice.

He is tall and skeletal, his black robes gliding over the ground as if untouched by gravity. The dim light reveals his pale, snake-like face, the gleaming red eyes that pierce through the darkness and pin me in place. The air grows colder, the chill so sharp it feels like it's slicing through my skin. Voldemort.