human again / hp.

Chapter 121

I had not meant to come down for breakfast. I told myself I would stay in bed. Maybe take a walk by the lake before anyone was properly awake. But something pulled me down the spiral staircase and across the stone floor of the tower until I found myself at the Gryffindor table, sitting alone with an untouched piece of toast and a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.

The Great Hall was alive with sound. Ravenclaws chatting about Transfiguration essays. Hufflepuffs passing a jar of marmalade across the table. Slytherins laughing too loudly near the end of their bench. I didn't look to see if Draco was with them. I didn't need to. His voice carried easily when he was trying to be heard.

I lowered my gaze and traced the grain of the wooden table with the tip of my finger.

Daphne was still asleep. I knew that without needing to ask. She had stayed up late studying for an Ancient Runes test, sprawled on the desk in the library with her hair tied up and quill tucked behind her ear. I had left her there when I went back to the Gryffindor Common Room. I didn't say goodnight. I rarely said much at all anymore.

Somewhere high above, a clock chimed.

And then came the rush of wings.

Hundreds of owls swooped into the Great Hall through the high windows, casting long shadows across the morning light. Feathers drifted to the floor like snow. Everyone's heads tilted back to watch. Some students lifted their arms with practiced ease. Others ducked.

I watched them all as if from a distance.

And then I saw her. A pale barn owl gliding toward me with smooth, purposeful strokes. My stomach clenched. I recognized her immediately. The family owl. Dignified. Unhurried. She landed beside my plate and held out her leg.

My fingers trembled as I untied the envelope.

Narcissa Malfoy. Her handwriting was unmistakable. Elegant and deliberate. The paper was thick and smelled faintly of roses. I slipped the letter out and unfolded it slowly.

I read it in silence. The sounds of breakfast faded around me.

My Dearest Celeste,

I hope this letter finds you well, or as well as one can be in a place so far from home. I imagine the castle is turning colder now, the wind creeping in through the windows, the stone feeling colder beneath your feet in the morning. I remember that feeling. How I used to hate it.

I wanted to write sooner, but things here have been... complicated. Draco tells me very little these days. I suppose I should be grateful. He has grown into secrecy and silence. Perhaps that means he is taking his task seriously.

As for the situation this week, I imagine you will hear whispers at school if you have not already. The Ministry searched  our homes again. They came with wands drawn and questions they did not truly expect answers to. It was the second time in less than a month. Of course, they found nothing.

Arthur Weasley, that blood traitor with the foolish little job, led the search. He told reporters they were acting on a confidential tip-off. How convenient. I would wager my last Galleon that the source of his information is neither confidential nor accurate. Likely some overexcited fool hoping to earn favor by pointing fingers at the past.

Do not worry. There was no damage done, no real consequence. Still, it is a reminder. We must remain cautious. Every word. Every movement. The Dark Lord expects discretion as much as loyalty. I know you understand that better than most.

I hope you are keeping your head down and your eyes sharp. I do not ask for reports. I do not expect you to write back with secrets. I only ask you to take care of yourself. You are not alone, even when it feels that way.