Whispers of the Dove / R.L & S.B

🌼~°14°~🌼

<<<<Willow>>>>

Not sleeping—worrying and trying to find a reason why.

That's how my night went. Alerted by screaming children in the Gryffindor common room, I rushed as fast as I could to help. A shimmering Patronus, sent by Albus Dumbledore, guided me through the castle corridors. The day had been swallowed by the night, and the darkness seemed heavier than usual.

How is it that Hogwarts is said to be one of the safest places on earth, yet danger constantly lurks around every corner? Since my arrival, I've caught snippets of stories that left me incredulous: a troll roaming the school halls, a teacher possessed by Voldemort hiding on the back of his own head, children petrified by a basilisk dwelling in a secret chamber beneath the school, and who knows what creatures lurk in the Forbidden Forest, so dangerously close to a school full of children.

When I entered the Gryffindor common room, I realized it was my first time stepping foot inside. The space, warm and vibrant with its deep reds and golds, was now filled with tension and fear. A crowd of students huddled near the fireplace, their panicked whispers creating a low hum of unease.

Before I could take a step further, Remus appeared from behind me, pulling me into his arms. His embrace was tight, and he murmured, "Thank God you're safe," so quietly I almost didn't catch it.

"Why wouldn't I be safe?" I asked, my voice laced with confusion, as I awkwardly wrapped an arm around his torso in return.

The younger students—first and second years mostly—watched us with wide, curious eyes. Their small faces were etched with fear, their gazes darting between Remus and me, perhaps hoping for some reassurance.

But Remus didn't answer my question. Instead, he pulled back slightly and began explaining what had happened, his focus entirely on the situation at hand. His voice was calm but firm, as if steadying the room with his very presence.

I stood there, feeling the weight of his concern and the mounting tension in the room, trying to piece together why this so-called "safe haven" felt anything but.

"Black apparently broke into the Gryffindor common room while the students were sleeping and attacked Ronald Weasley in his bed."

I froze, shocked, my mouth slightly agape. How could he manage that? The idea alone felt impossible, but the urgency of the situation didn't allow my thoughts to linger.

"What? Harry and Ron share a room! Is Harry okay?" I asked, my voice trembling with panic.

Without waiting for an answer—a wiser course of action, in hindsight—I pushed past Remus and rushed toward the boys' dormitory, my heart pounding. The stairs seemed endless as I followed the chatter of curious students ahead of me, all eager to uncover what had happened.

As I neared the door to Harry and Ron's room, the voices inside became clearer. Ron's voice was the loudest, a frantic, hysterical pitch.

"I swear it was Sirius Black! I saw him—his black hair, those terrifying, crazed eyes! That madman tried to kill me!"

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, a sharp contrast to the chaos within. Harry stood off to the side, pale but silent. Ron sat on his bed, gesturing wildly, his face red with both fear and anger.

And there, in the middle of it all, stood Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, their faces grave as they listened to Ron's panicked account.

The scene was surreal, my pulse racing as I scanned the room. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance—no signs of a struggle, no broken windows—but the tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a wand.