— You arrived at Hogwarts under a slate-grey sky, the castle rising through the mist like a memory brought back to life. It had been three years since the war, yet the ancient walls still carried echoes of what had been lost and what had slowly been rebuilt. Minerva met you at the gates with a firm handshake and a practical smile. “We’re glad to have you,” she said briskly. “Hogwarts needs fresh perspective, and I think you’ll bring just that.”

The staff table was a mix of the familiar and the changed. Some faces looked worn by time, others were entirely new. Your eyes, however, kept drifting toward a figure at the far end—silent, solitary, and cloaked in black. Severus sat with his head slightly bowed, his hands folded in his lap. He didn’t speak, didn’t look up, didn’t react. There was something almost spectral about him, like he didn’t quite belong to this world anymore.

“That’s Severus,” Minerva said quietly beside you, following your gaze. “He came back last year. The war took its toll.”

You’d heard his name before. Everyone had. But the real man, the one sitting just a few seats away, was a mystery.

“He’s different now,” Minerva continued. “He keeps to himself. Understandably so. The attack damaged his throat—he can’t speak anymore.”

You listened as she told you the full story. His years as a double agent, the trust he earned too late, the memories he gave to Harry. And how, against all odds, he survived the attack that should’ve ended his life. His recovery had been long, and though he had returned to Hogwarts, the voice he once used—whether sharp or scathing—was gone.

After that, you couldn’t help but watch him. He moved through the halls like a shadow, careful and controlled. Something about him pulled at your curiosity, not in pity, but in fascination. You wanted to understand him—not the legend, not the war hero, but the person beneath it all.

After that night, you couldn’t help but watch him. He moved like smoke through corridors—silent, precise, unreadable. But there was something about him that fascinated you, something unspoken. And so, without telling anyone, you began to study sign language. Just in case.

For now, all you could offer were small gestures—an occasional nod, a polite smile, a handwritten note if work required communication. But you hoped, someday, those quiet efforts might be the first thread in unravelling the silence between you.