POV: Severus Snape

Potter had come to me for advice. The idea alone was laughable, and yet there she had stood in my office, her green eyes steady, determination radiating off her like an aura. For all my skepticism, I had to admit there was a certain logic to her concern. Rumors of Dark sympathizers regrouping, especially within the confines of Hogwarts, were not to be dismissed lightly.

As she left my office that night, the door clicking shut behind her, I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. Memories of the war, of whispered conspiracies and secret meetings, ghosted through my mind. The possibility of Voldemort's ideology surviving beyond his death was something I had always feared, and now, with this warning from a student, that fear was solidifying into a grim reality.

Potter was right to come to me. As much as it pained me to admit it, she had shown a level of awareness that most of her generation still lacked. There were shadows in this castle that most people chose to ignore, but Harriet Potter had always been drawn to shadows. Perhaps she couldn't help it. Her life had been shaped by darkness, just as mine had.

With a sigh, I stood and moved to a tall cabinet in the corner of my office. I unlocked it with a flick of my wand, revealing a collection of potion vials, books bound in worn leather, and other artifacts that had once belonged to a life spent in service to Dumbledore. These were tools of the trade I had thought I would never have to use again. And yet, the familiar weight of responsibility settled over my shoulders like an old, tattered cloak.

We must tread carefully, I had told Potter. It was no less true now, as I considered the steps we would need to take. The idea of working with her was unappealing, but I had to admit she had proven herself to be more capable than I'd expected. The girl I'd once known had matured, grown into someone formidable.

Lily would be proud, a small voice whispered in the back of my mind, but I silenced it quickly. Pride had no place here. Only duty.

POV: Harriet Potter

The next day dawned cold and gray, a light mist clinging to the grounds outside. I awoke feeling more tired than I should have, my mind still reeling from my conversation with Snape. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but the fact that he had taken me seriously-and agreed to help-felt like an unexpected victory.

As I walked to breakfast in the Great Hall, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Paranoia, perhaps, but years of living under constant threat had left me with a keen sense for danger. I glanced over my shoulder, but the corridors were empty, the only movement the flickering of torchlight against the stone walls.

When I entered the Great Hall, the warmth of the morning bustle washed over me. Students were gathered at long tables, chattering over steaming plates of eggs and sausages. The enchanted ceiling reflected the cloudy sky, the occasional drop of mist trickling down as if teasing the magic that kept it at bay. I moved to the staff table, nodding to a few students who greeted me with sleepy smiles.

Minerva McGonagall, seated at the head of the table, offered me a warm smile as I took my seat. "Good morning, Harriet," she said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "How are your classes going?"

"Very well, thank you," I replied, though my voice was tinged with weariness. "The students are engaged and eager to learn."

She studied me with a knowing eye. "You look tired, dear. Are you sure everything is all right?"

I hesitated, my fingers wrapping around the handle of my teacup. Minerva had always been a mentor, a source of comfort and wisdom, but I wasn't sure how much I should share with her yet. Until we had more concrete information, there was no sense in causing alarm.

"I'm fine," I assured her, forcing a smile. "Just adjusting to the routine."

She nodded, though her eyes remained watchful. I knew that look well; she wasn't entirely convinced, but she trusted me to come to her if something was truly wrong. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to her breakfast, and I took a sip of my tea, letting the warmth steady me.

My gaze drifted across the hall to the Slytherin table, where Sylvia Greengrass sat with a group of her housemates. She looked calmer today, though there was still a tension in the set of her shoulders, a wariness I couldn't ignore. My conversation with her had opened a door I hadn't been ready for, but now that it was open, I couldn't close it.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the arrival of the morning post. Owls swooped down from the rafters, delivering letters and packages with practiced grace. A tawny owl dropped a thick envelope in front of me, and I recognized Hermione's handwriting immediately. I smiled, grateful for the distraction.

I opened the letter, my eyes scanning Hermione's familiar, tidy script:

Dear Harriet,

I've been thinking about you a lot, wondering how you're adjusting to teaching. I know it can't be easy, being back there after everything. But I also know you're making a difference. You always do.

Write to me when you have time. I miss you.
Love,
Hermione

I folded the letter, feeling a pang of longing. Hermione had always been my rock, my voice of reason. I made a mental note to write back as soon as I could, though I knew I wouldn't be able to tell her everything. Not yet.

As I tucked the letter away, my eyes caught a movement at the staff table. Severus Snape had entered the hall, his black robes billowing around him like a dark tide. He took his seat without acknowledging anyone, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance. But when his eyes flicked to me, just for a moment, I felt that same, unsettling intensity. He was watching, waiting, as though he expected something to go terribly wrong.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of lessons and conversations, but the feeling of unease never left me. After my last class, I found myself wandering the corridors, unable to shake the sense that something was coming. I was just rounding a corner near the Astronomy Tower when I heard voices-low, hurried, and distinctly conspiratorial.

I pressed myself against the cold stone wall, straining to listen.

"...can't let her find out," one voice whispered. A boy, from the sound of it. "If she does, we're done for."

"Relax," another voice replied, this one colder, more composed. "Potter won't know a thing. She's too busy playing the hero to notice."

My heart raced, and I carefully peered around the corner. Two older students, both Slytherins, were standing in the shadows, their wands clutched tightly. One of them was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a sneer that reminded me of Draco Malfoy. The other was smaller, wiry, with a calculating look in his eyes.

"What if she finds out?" the first boy repeated, more urgently. "My father said-"

"I don't care what your father said," the smaller boy snapped. "We follow the plan. The Headmaster will see that we're right."

The Headmaster? My blood ran cold. If they were conspiring with someone outside the school... or even within it...

I didn't have time to think. The boys turned suddenly, and I ducked back around the corner, my heart pounding. I needed to tell someone. Snape, maybe. He'd know what to do. But as I took a step back, the stone beneath my foot creaked, and the boys froze.

"Who's there?" one of them called, his voice sharp with suspicion.

I held my breath, my mind racing. You've faced worse than this, Harriet, I reminded myself. Stay calm.

But as the boys advanced, wands raised, I knew one thing for certain: the shadows in Hogwarts were growing deeper, and I was right in the middle of them.