𝟔𝟔 - 𝓒𝓻𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼

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Getting back to Hogwarts wasn't as easy as simply walking through its gates.

Since the fall of Dumbledore, security had changed drastically. The once protective enchantments that had kept the school safe from dark forces had been warped, twisted into something far more menacing.

The entrance was guarded. Patrolled by figures cloaked in black.

I recognized some of them immediately—Snatchers and lower-ranked Death Eaters, men who had once been nothing more than whispers in the dark but who now walked openly, their presence a constant reminder that Hogwarts was no longer a safe place.

I kept my hood low as I approached, my breath steady, my heartbeat pounding beneath my ribs.

One of the guards, a burly man with scarred hands and yellowed teeth, stepped forward, blocking my path.

"State your name."

I forced my expression to remain neutral. "Professor (Y/N) (L/N)," I said evenly, as if my heart weren't hammering against my ribs.

The man's beady eyes narrowed. "Didn't think there were any professors left who wanted to come back."

"I never left," I lied.

The man let out a snort, looking me up and down as if trying to decide whether I was worth questioning further. But then, another voice cut through the silence.

"Let her through."

The moment I stepped into the entrance hall, I knew Hogwarts was no longer the place I had once known.

The air hung dense, suffused with an unshakable weight, as if the very walls had absorbed the fear and unease of those within. Students passed me in the corridors, their movements stiff, their shoulders drawn tight. They walked quickly, eyes lowered, avoiding even the briefest glance.

This wasn't the Hogwarts I had fought to protect.

This was a school under siege.

I barely made it to my quarters before I heard it—a muffled cry from down the corridor.

I turned sharply, my instincts kicking in, and before I even had time to think, I was moving toward the sound.

As I rounded the corner, the sight before me made my blood boil.

A young Hufflepuff, no older than thirteen, was pinned against the wall, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as Amycus Carrow loomed over him, his wand pointed directly at the boy's chest.

"You think backtalking your professors is amusing, boy?" Amycus snarled, his voice dripping with cruelty.

The student, trembling, shook his head quickly. His lip was split, his face pale with fear.

I didn't hesitate.

"Professor Carrow."

My voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and demanding. Amycus turned, his lip curling into a sneer as he laid eyes on me.

"Ah," he mused, tilting his head. "So the lost little professor has returned."

I ignored the jab, my gaze flicking toward the student. "Get to your common room," I instructed, my voice firm. "Now."

The boy didn't need to be told twice. He bolted.

Amycus let out a low, cruel laugh, twirling his wand lazily between his fingers. "You're going to have a hard time fitting in around here, (L/N)," he drawled. "You still think you can run things the way they were before. But that's not how it works anymore."

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