Memories of the Heart || Harry Potter x Reader

Y4 ~ The Graveyard

The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet, their flickering torchlight casting long shadows against the stone walls. The night air felt heavy—thick with unease and the echo of what they'd just witnessed.

Harry walked beside Y/N in silence, his jaw tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets. The only sound was the faint scuff of their shoes against the floor and the distant rumble of thunder outside.

Y/N's arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the ground. The image of Barty Crouch's lifeless face still clung to her mind like smoke she couldn't clear. She felt hollow, the weight of everything pressing on her chest.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Harry drew a quiet breath, his voice low and uncertain.

"Y/N... about before—"

She stopped walking, turning slightly toward him. Her expression was soft, weary, but kind.

"Harry," she murmured, managing a small, tired smile. "Not right now, yeah? I just... I don't think I have the energy for us tonight."

His lips parted like he wanted to protest, to explain himself, but one look at her—pale, shaken, eyes rimmed red from the night's chaos—made him falter. He simply nodded.

"After," she added gently. "After whatever Dumbledore needs from us then we'll talk about us."

They resumed walking side by side, the silence that followed no longer tense but quietly understanding. When they reached the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, the familiar spiral staircase rose before them. As they ascended, muffled voices drifted from behind the door above.

Y/N and Harry exchanged a wary glance.

"This conversation is no longer private!" growled Mad-Eye Moody's voice from inside.

Before either of them could knock, the door swung open with a sharp flick of Moody's wand. His electric-blue eye spun once before fixing on them both.

"Ah," he grunted. "Just in time."

Inside, Cornelius Fudge's voice rang out, overly bright and forced.

"Ahh-Y/N, Harry! Nice to see you, yes, yes-come in, come in!" he said, gesturing awkwardly toward them as though greeting guests at a tea party rather than two students who'd just stumbled upon a corpse.

Dumbledore, standing near his desk, gave the faintest of smiles before turning to Fudge.

"The Minister," he said smoothly, "was just leaving."

Fudge blinked, caught off guard. "Leaving? I—well—yes, of course, but I hardly think—"

"Thank you for coming, Cornelius," Dumbledore said in that same calm, measured tone that somehow left no room for debate. "I shall keep you informed as soon as I learn more."

Before the Minister could respond, Dumbledore was already guiding him gently but firmly toward the door. Fudge sputtered a protest or two, his bowler hat wobbling as he tried to salvage his dignity, but Dumbledore's quiet insistence made resistance impossible. With a final muttered grumble, Fudge allowed himself to be steered out into the corridor.

Moody's magical eye whirled, following the Minister until the door clicked shut behind them.

Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Y/N, his expression softening. "Help yourselves to the licorice snaps," he said with a faint smile, gesturing toward the desk. "Though I must warn you—they're a bit... spirited."

Y/N lingered near the door, arms crossed, her gaze flicking warily to the bowl. She had an inkling about those treats—Dumbledore always had a peculiar sense of humor—and after three years at Hogwarts, she wasn't about to be caught off guard. Harry, however, stepped forward, utterly unsuspecting.