A haunting mystery unfolds as dreams become a portal to a forgotten past. Y/N, a gifted witch, finds herself entwined in a spectral enigma when haunting dreams reveal the desperate plea of a ghostly warden. This apparition, tied to the mysterious hi...
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I stepped into the familiar warmth of the Magical Theories classroom, my heart heavy with the weight of the memories. Professor Fig's absence seemed to echo through the room, tears begin to swell in my eyes as I move toward the back of the room to his office, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings.
Opening the door to bask in the comfort of where I was once known to be found whenever I ever had a doubt in my mind about my magical abilities, a strange sensation suddenly prickles at the edge of my consciousness. The layout of his office was different, the decorations unfamiliar. Sure, Professor Fig was gone for nearly two years, but there hadn't been a replacement found since his death. Not yet.
This office appeared freshly worked in, every corner bearing the mark of recent activity. Books lined the shelves, piled high on the desk and scattered across the floor in haphazard stacks. It was as if the room had been transformed into a labyrinth of knowledge overnight and I felt like I was intruding.
I take in the room with a deliberate slowness, each detail only adding to the confusion swirling in my mind, like a whirlpool slowly engulfing my thoughts. My eyes fell upon an open book resting on the desk, its pages fluttering softly in a nonexistent breeze. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. I'd recognize the children's book I had read growing up anywhere. I frown, puzzled by its presence.
I approach the book cautiously, my curiosity piqued.
The book lay open to a page depicting the Tale of the Three Brothers, the familiar words dancing across the yellowed parchment. My gaze trailed to the notes scattered beside it, scribbled fragments of text hinting at secrets long forgotten. Something about a stone...
My attention then gets stolen by a picture resting amidst the chaos of books and parchment. Two children stared back at me from the faded photograph. A boy and a girl, no older than three. They were laughing in the photo, their arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace, and I find myself drawn to the innocence captured in that moment.
Who were they?
Why is there a photograph of them here?
Questions tugged at the corners of my mind, but before I could unravel the enigma, realization dawned on me slowly.
This was not reality. This was a dream.
Before I could fully grasp the implications, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, breaking the fragile tension in my mind. With a sudden sense of urgency, I hurry towards the door out of the office.
I fling the door open to the classroom below, my heart pounding in my chest. There, retreating in the shadows was the blonde Hufflepuff girl.
