Ancient Magician (Severus x Reader)

Chapter 52: Few days later

"Time to wake up, Bumblebee," came that familiar voice — warm and coaxing, the kind of tone meant to gently tug you from the safety of dreams rather than rip you out of them. It hovered in the air like steam off tea on a cold morning, soft but persistent.

I groaned. The kind of groan only someone clinging to the last wisps of sleep could make — muffled, petulant, entirely unwilling to engage with reality. Somewhere deep under the blanket mountain I'd carefully constructed during the night, I mumbled, "Mmmf?"

"No use pretending, love," the voice said again, firmer now but still laced with affection. "Up you get. Today's no day to sleep through — we've got a bloody mountain of nonsense to wade through."

I cracked open one eye with the hesitation of someone expecting a camera flash to blind them. The world came into view in smudges of color and light. And yes — there he was. Dad, in all his grizzled glory, standing by my bedside like some weathered sentinel. Arms folded, boots planted, face set in that expression that said this wasn't a battle I could win. Not today.

And beside him, no mistaking the glittering, utterly extra figure wrapped in layers of embroidered fabric and twinkling baubles — Uncle Albus, spectacles slipping low on his crooked nose, robes looking like someone had thrown a starry night sky into a washing machine with far too much glitter.

I let out a long, suffering sigh and threw one arm dramatically over my eyes. "Honestly, is nothing sacred? Can't a girl enjoy the tiniest shred of rest before the entire universe decides she's its personal headline again?"

Dad's expression didn't so much as twitch, but I caught the twitch of amusement in his moustache. "You'll be lucky if you can find ten minutes of peace after this circus kicks off."

Albus, naturally, looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. His smile beamed like it was Christmas morning and I was the stocking.

"My dear girl," he said with infuriating glee, "it's not every day the entire wizarding world learns that their dearly missed warrior of light has returned. The owl posts have practically been bursting."

I sat up slowly, squinting at them both with the ferocity of someone still emotionally attached to her bed. "What are you talking about? What does everyone 'know' exactly? And don't say it's about that time I cursed a Ministry official because he insulted my wandwork—"

Before I could spiral into listing all the possible crimes I may or may not have committed over the years, Dad interrupted me with a grunt and handed me something — a neatly folded copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Read it," he said, sounding far too resigned.

I blinked blearily, took the paper, and flicked it open. The headline slapped me in the face harder than a Bludger to the ribs:

"Y/N GRIMBLEHAWK DUMBLEDORE RETURNS — DARKNESS TREMBLES BEFORE THE FLAME OF THE GODDESS REBORN"

My mouth fell open. I blinked once. Then again. And then I emitted a noise not unlike a dying banshee.

"WHO," I barked, "IN THE BLEEDING NAME OF MERLIN'S FLUFFY SLIPPERS TOLD THE PROPHET I WAS ME AGAIN?!"

Albus blinked innocently, folding his hands together like a choir boy caught with a cauldron of firewhisky. "I may have... offered an exclusive."

Dad let out a world-weary sigh that felt centuries old. "He practically wrote the bloody thing himself. Threw in a portrait, too. One of those moving ones that makes you look like you're giving a speech."

I gaped at them. "You did what?!"

"The people need hope," Albus said mildly. "You are hope. Whether you like it or not."