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HPHM 159
🕑 Added 2025-10-27 23:28:23 +0000 UTCSunlight After Shadows. Part 1/2
Harry dismounted from the hippogriff with a refreshing smile—so sincere that it seemed to softly illuminate everything around him. The students, still amazed by what they had just witnessed, slowly began to approach. Harry walked calmly toward his group of friends while Hagrid watched the scene with pride. The half-giant couldn’t hide his happiness; his class had finally been a complete success.
However, not everyone shared his enthusiasm. While the rest of the students’ attention remained fixed on Harry, a dark expression hardened a few meters away. Carrow watched with a furrowed brow, his face darkened with rage at the sight of Potter surrounded by admirers. His gaze slid toward one of his followers—a nervous boy named Grabe—who, carried away by the moment, began clapping along with the others.
The applause lasted barely a second. Realizing his mistake, Grabe quickly lowered his hands in embarrassment.
Carrow looked at him with a mix of disapproval and contempt before slowly stepping closer until he stood beside him. He leaned in slightly and whispered something into the boy’s ear. The words, though inaudible to the rest, made Grabe turn pale in an instant. His trembling gaze drifted to the hippogriff, which was at that moment devouring the small animal Hagrid had thrown it a few minutes earlier.
Grabe weakly shook his head, as if trying to refuse whatever his superior had ordered. But Carrow gave him a light push accompanied by a cold smile—a presence so intimidating it allowed no defiance. The boy began to tremble; he understood he had no choice.
With hesitant steps, he moved toward the hippogriff. Buckbeak, noticing the movement, let out a sharp screech that echoed through the clearing, drawing the attention of everyone present.
“Hey, you! What are you doing?” shouted Hagrid, alarmed, his eyes wide with panic. “Stop right there!” he added, seeing how Buckbeak flared his wings in fury, ready to strike.
Grabe froze as the beast rose onto its hind legs. He was still a meter or two away—close enough to feel the danger but not yet within reach. He hesitated for a moment… then turned around to retreat.
“It’s all right, just come back here,” said Hagrid gently, trying not to frighten him further. The half-giant spoke in the calmest voice he could muster, hoping the boy would obey.
But Grabe didn’t look at him. Instead, he turned toward Carrow, who was watching from afar with a sinister grin. The professor made a small gesture, sliding his thumb across his own neck. Grabe understood immediately; it wasn’t a threat directed at him—but at his family.
Terrified, he turned back toward the hippogriff and took another step forward. That was when the creature reacted with a guttural roar and lunged, raising its claws to strike.
Everything happened in seconds. Hagrid, who had already moved closer, threw himself in front of Grabe and wrapped his massive arms around Buckbeak’s neck, trying to restrain the beast with all his strength. The creature thrashed and flapped violently, snapping its beak at the air while the half-giant held on.
“Easy, boy… easy,” murmured Hagrid with effort, enduring the scratches and pecks. It wasn’t pain that stopped him, but concern that someone might get hurt. Little by little, the hippogriff recognized its caretaker and began to calm down. Its breathing slowed, and Hagrid took the chance to stroke its head firmly.
“You all right?” he asked the boy in a low, steady tone, without letting go of the animal. “If you are, best step back.”
Grabe, trembling, stumbled backward before turning and almost sprinting back toward the Slytherin group. Carrow greeted him with a satisfied smile and a pat on the shoulder, as if he had done an excellent job.
The scene did not go unnoticed. Harry and Draco exchanged a cold look, their eyes fixed on Carrow. The man, realizing they were watching, turned his head and smiled with an air of victory that neither of them could quite understand.
“It’s best we end the class here,” said Hagrid at last, once Buckbeak had completely calmed down. He threw a prey carcass far away to keep the creature distracted and away from the students. His clothes were in tatters, streaked with small smears of blood on his legs. Even for a half-giant, those marks showed just how sharp a hippogriff’s claws could be.
Some students, still in shock, turned and began running back to the castle, eager to get as far away as possible from the clearing—and the beast that had nearly attacked one of them.
…
Harry and his friends lingered for a moment near Hagrid, but he insisted they leave.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, brushing off their concern. Then he waved them toward the castle.
“That was obviously Carrow’s idea,” Hermione muttered angrily, her brow furrowed.
“He’s planning something,” Draco added, crossing his arms, his tone grave.
“If that idiot had been hurt, Hagrid would be in serious trouble now. Luckily, it didn’t work,” said Daphne with a nod.
“No,” said Harry, shaking his head slowly. “That smile… it wasn’t the look of someone whose plan failed.”
His words made the group fall silent. Harry clearly remembered that last grin Carrow had given them before leaving; it wasn’t one of defeat. It was the smile of someone waiting for their next move.
“You think he’s planning something else?” asked Hermione, worry flickering in her eyes. The others started to think more carefully about what that could mean. “But what could it be?”
Harry brought a hand to his chin, thoughtful. There were too many possibilities; everything was speculation until Carrow made his next move.
“For now, we wait. If we can help, we will,” he said calmly before heading toward the Great Hall. He still had other matters to deal with that day, so he’d leave that problem for later.
…
“Cho, I heard that Harry Potter was amazing today, riding something called a hippogriff! Some girls from his class even shared pictures they took in secret,” said a copper-haired, freckled girl as she approached her friend, who was reading a book in Ravenclaw’s common room.
The redhead was Marietta Edgecombe, and her friend, the elegant Cho Chang—one of the most popular students in the year above Harry and his friends.
“I also got a few pictures of Draco Malfoy and Luciel Delacour, thanks to the Weasley twins!” Marietta added excitedly, pulling a small stack of moving photographs from her bag as if they were treasure.
In one of them, Draco appeared with his arms crossed and a deep frown, just before turning toward the camera with an irritated expression, as if he had caught the photographer in the act. In another, Harry was descending on Buckbeak, wearing that calm smile that seemed to stop time itself. And in yet another, Luciel was walking alongside her fiancée; both looked radiant. In the last shot, Luciel turned directly toward the camera, smiling and waving as if perfectly used to being photographed.
Cho glanced briefly at the picture of Harry, noticing something in his expression that she couldn’t quite define. Then she sighed softly and closed her book.
“I’m not sure this is a very healthy hobby, Marietta,” she said with a mix of amusement and mild reproach, while her friend pouted playfully, clearly unrepentant.
“Oh, please, don’t pretend you don’t want Harry’s photos too,” Marietta teased with a mischievous smile.
“He’s too young,” replied Cho, slightly embarrassed, though a faint smile betrayed her at the end.
“Only by a year; you could think of it as an investment for the future,” said Marietta with a playful tone.
“Ahem.” Cho cleared her throat, her voice carrying a hint of discomfort. “You’re the one with an album full of his photos, not me. I don’t know why you’re dragging me into this,” she said, elegantly steering the conversation away.
“I just like appreciating handsome boys; it’s not like I’m in love with them,” Marietta said, shrugging. “Although… if one of them gave me just a little attention, I think I could die happy,” she added with a dreamy smile and a foolish gleam in her eyes.
Cho rolled her eyes softly before standing up. “Your chances won’t be very good if they ever find some of those photos in your hands,” she remarked dryly, walking calmly toward the girls’ dormitory.
Marietta watched her leave and, as soon as her friend turned her back, she stuck out her tongue mockingly. When Cho turned around for a moment, Marietta quickly replaced it with an innocent smile, pretending nothing had happened. Once her friend disappeared completely, she turned her attention back to her “treasure.”
She sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace and began to sort the photos carefully. Those images hadn’t been easy to get; some of those boys had entire crowds of admirers across different houses—whether because of their looks, their aura, their talent, or simply their status.
Marietta sighed contentedly as she looked through them, though her expression changed when she noticed that in several of the pictures featuring Draco and Harry, Daphne and Hermione also appeared.
Her face hardened. She pulled a pair of scissors from her bag and, with meticulous precision, began to cut out the parts where the girls appeared. Then, as if that weren’t enough, she scratched over their faces with disdain, muttering bitter words under her breath.
She moved on to the next photo: one where Harry was gently patting Luna’s and Astoria’s heads while they both laughed innocently; another where Draco offered them candies, and another still where Luciel walked by, smiling as she handed them sweets. The group treated the girls with such warmth, almost like doting older siblings.
Marietta’s expression twisted with a sudden, irrational surge of anger. Her jaw clenched, and she began cutting the photos again and again, shredding Luna’s and Astoria’s faces into tiny pieces. Then she threw the fragments into the fireplace, watching the flames devour them slowly. A satisfied smile curved her lips.
“About time… I don’t know what those brats have that keeps them always around them. They’re just little nobodies,” she muttered bitterly, exhaling as if she’d just rid herself of something evil.
She leaned back on the sofa, but then an odd silence filled the room. It wasn’t the usual calm of Ravenclaw’s common room—it was deeper, heavier, almost unnatural.
She frowned. The Ravenclaw common room was often quiet at this hour, yes, but this silence felt different; it was as if the air itself had stopped moving.
Marietta’s heartbeat quickened, a chill running down her spine. By now, most students were asleep or had stayed in their rooms. She alone had chosen to remain downstairs, near the fire—away from the classmates who mocked her for her “weird crushes.”
She swallowed hard. Something was wrong. She reached for the remaining photos on the table, intending to hide them quickly, but just as her hand moved toward them… another hand grabbed them first.
Marietta froze.
She turned her head slowly, and to her horror, she saw Harry Potter standing beside her, calmly flipping through the photographs, his face completely unreadable.
“P-Potter,” she stammered, feeling her blood run cold.
Harry examined the pictures one by one, unnervingly calm. “Hmm… looks like we’re all pretty photogenic,” he said in a neutral tone, tilting his head slightly. “Though it’s curious how Luciel manages to pose perfectly in every photo. I should have a talk with whoever’s selling these images without asking. Not that finding out who they are would be difficult.”
As he spoke, he lifted his gaze; his green eyes reflected the flickering glow of the fire.
“I—I—They’re just photos! Lots of girls have them, not just me,” Marietta stuttered defensively, her voice trembling with embarrassment.
“Really?” Harry replied with chilling calm, holding up one of the photos that had been cut. “And do many of them treat the pictures like this?” he asked, showing her the torn image.
Marietta opened her mouth but couldn’t form a response.
Harry stared at the picture in silence. Then, with a subtle motion of his finger, he flipped it over—and before Marietta’s wide eyes, the cut pieces slowly reformed, stitching themselves together until the photo was whole again.
It was the image of him kneeling before Luna, helping her put on her shoes while she laughed. The warmth of his expression in the picture stood in stark contrast to the coldness in his real face.
He gazed at it for a few long seconds, saying nothing.
“I… I’m sorry,” Marietta finally whispered, cheeks burning with shame. Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and bolted toward her dormitory.
But she stopped dead in her tracks.
Standing at the entrance to the girls’ corridor was Red—the enormous crimson dragon—staring at her with a low growl, his eyes glowing like embers. His body blocked the path, wings tensed, ready to strike.
Marietta went pale. “R-Red, it’s me. I fed you treats this morning…” she murmured, trembling, stepping back as she turned toward Harry for help.
But Harry didn’t even look at her. His attention was fixed elsewhere.
“Did you find it?” he asked calmly, as if speaking to no one.
Marietta followed his gaze—and then she saw something she hadn’t noticed before: a tiny fairy fluttering nearby.
The little creature was struggling to carry a pair of glittering shoes, decorated with ribbons and tiny gems. They were far too large for her, yet she held them tightly, flapping awkwardly until she reached Harry.
The fairy had golden hair and wore a small red dress that shimmered in the firelight. She was no bigger than the palm of a hand, yet her presence seemed to fill the room. Marietta’s eyes widened as she recognized the shoes—they were the very ones she had hidden under her bed.
“Ah…” she breathed, frozen in shock, realizing she’d been caught.
“Thank you, Terra. Sorry for the trouble,” Harry said softly to the fairy, who twirled gracefully in the air, showing off her little dress like a bowing performer. The detail didn’t go unnoticed: the dress was an exact miniature replica of the one Wanda wore when she revealed her most dangerous form.
“It suits you well,” Harry added with a faint smile. Then his expression hardened again as he looked up at Marietta.
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier.
Marietta swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes.
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Nicolae
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