A/N: lol sorry that last cliffhanger was a bit evil, it's all out of love

Harry's sprinting away from the table before she can even think about moving—Hermione and Ginny are hot on his heels, though Hermione lags behind, not in nearly as good of shape as them.

She arrives at Ravenclaw tower moments after them, chest heaving.

(That is, she arrives at what was Ravenclaw tower.)

The door is swung open, smoke and ash slipping out, and Harry's hysteric, muttering "no, no, no, no, no".

She doesn't have it in her to stop him as he rushes inside, pulling his shirt up over his nose and mouth but coughing heavily nonetheless.

Ginny's silent—receding from the world, as she does when things go bad. just moving as fast as is humanly possible through the rubble, frantically levitating every fallen beam and brick.

"She has to be here," Hermione whispers to herself, though she doesn't quite believe it. "Maybe she already got up and went to the Hospital Wing, or—or something."

(None of them will be able to handle the alternative.)

"Lu!" Harry's screaming, now, so much and so loud that his voice grows raspy. "Luna! Lu where are you?!"

Ginny even goes so far as to try to accio the other girl, just—moving constantly.

(As though if she keeps moving she'll keep any horrible news from coming.)

They make it back to the doorway when they've upturned every piece of rubble there is, all filled with hopelessness.

"She—she must be—"

"Don't say it," Harry practically roars, eyes wild with terror and concern. "She can't be. We would've found a—a body."

A throat clears in the doorway, and they all jump; Remus's expression is grim. "You three need to come with me to the Headmaster's office."

"But Dad, Luna—"

"A lot has happened, Harry, but it's not safe to discuss here. Trust me." They exchange a look; Harry clearly wants to press the matter, but Remus is unyielding.

They all speed walk behind him, Harry shaking with anxiety and adrenaline and the uncertainty of it all; Hermione's fairly certain Ginny's in shock. As for her own feelings…

(Nothingness. She's numb, hasn't even truly processed any of the day's events, yet.)

The hallways feel muted, and Remus is moving so quickly she's nearly running to keep up. Her heartrate is rapid by the team the professor is whispering the password to let them all into the headmaster's chambers.

Harry's ready to explode when they make their way inside, and he's opening his mouth to demand answers when the air rushes out of him at the sight of Luna, seated beside Professor Snape.

He nearly falls over his own feet in his haste to get to her, relieved tears spilling from his eyes. "Lu! Thank god, I—" He sucks in a deep breath as her arms wind around his neck, one hand beginning to rub his back as he trembles. "I thought I lost you. Oh, my god, I thought I lost you."

"I'm okay," Luna promises, voice gentle. "I'm perfectly fine, Harry."

"Not to sound ungrateful," Hermione says with wide eyes, "Because obviously I love you and am so, so glad you're okay, but—Luna, how are you alive?"

"I had planned on staying in the tower and doing some research this morning, but at the last minute I got a note from a friend so I ended up spending the morning at the lake and catching up with a few friends of mine that are merpeople—and Shelly, of course."

"Shelly?" Ginny asks fainty.

"The giant squid," Luna says, like this is obvious. "Anyway, I had no idea about the explosion until Professor Snape showed up and disillusioned me and escorted me back to the castle."

Dumbledore clears his throat, waving for all of them to take a seat. "Voldemort is under the assumption his attempt on Miss Lovegood's life was successful. I believe it is in her best interests that we not let him know otherwise."

"You want—to fake Luna's death?" Hermione clarifies for Harry's benefit, watching the way his brows pull together out of the corner of her eye. "Why is that necessary?"

"Miss Lovegood has cost him a great deal of support and prestige today," Snape speaks up, drawl just a bit more speedy than usual. "The Dark Lord does not tolerate any degradation of his name, nor any exposure of weakness on his part. If he knew she survived this attempt, he would not relent in attacks until he saw her corpse for himself. The speed with which he was able to uncover her true identity and send the explosives to Ravenclaw tower, the resources he used to get through our wards—all of it is a testament to just how angry today's article made him."

Ginny frowns. "Where will she go? Obviously there isn't exactly a time frame for him to forget about it—if she has to keep from being seen publicly for as long as Voldemort's alive she can't exactly remain at Hogwarts."

"She'll be going into hiding." Remus's expression is grim. "She had to stay in hiding until the war's end; because Tonks Manor already has many precautions for Harry's sake, she and her father will be residing there for the foreseeable future. Andy and Sirius have already begun preparing. And no one outside of this room and the other members of the Manor can know she's alive—that means the three of you will be expected to grieve. It is imperative that your acting be perfect; if anyone suspects you are not mourning her, Luna's life will be in jeopardy."

"Not even the rest of the Order will be told?" Hermione asks, brows drawn together with concern.

"It's too much of a risk," Remus replies, being as delicate as he can, though the subject matter is urgent. "Harry, Hermione, the two of you will begin your Christmas break now—that way the Portkey will be explained away as yours, and Luna's departure won't be detectable."

It's only three weeks earlier than break was intended to start, and definitely would be the course of action taken if she truly had died, but it feels—monumental.

(Like something bigger is happening, in the war.)

Dumbledore nods; while his expression is serious, he seems—unbothered, by the turn of events.

(It makes Hermione want to go full muggle and punch him in the nose so hard it shatters beneath her hand.)

"We'll be releasing an official statement confirming her death on campus and the destruction of the tower in just a few hours," he tells them, even as he scribbles on a parchment on his desk. "Prepare yourselves."

"Can't we at least tell Ronald?" Luna pipes up, gaze far away. "All of this—it means that it worked. It was his idea for me to write the expose, he deserves to know. And—he'll blame himself for my death, if he doesn't."

"Any unnecessary passing of the knowledge that you live is too big a risk. If one of you were to be compromised—"

"Ron would never betray us, not even if he were tortured."

"No one here believes he would," Remus says gently, giving Dumbledore a look to get him to stop talking. "But unfortunately, he's never become as accomplished at Occlumency as the other three of you who will need to keep the secret—he's hardly passable at mental shields, however wonderful his strengths. It's too dangerous for him to know; and knowing Ron, I think he'd rather be left out of the loop than potentially be the reason Voldemort does succeed in killing Luna, however accidental."

It's a bitter pill to swallow; they're all reluctant as they shove down further arguments.

(Dumbledore they'll always disbelieve, but if Remus is saying this...it's truly in their best interests, as much as it hurts.)

"We need to proceed before the Ministry arrives," Snape mutters stiffly.

Remus nods, reaching to hug Harry and Hermione. "I'll see the three of you when class lets out next week. Give everyone my love." He turns to Luna with a grim expression. "I'm sorry you're in this position, Luna, but know that what you did today was very brave. Reckless, but very brave. It may very well help our side win the war."

"Thank you, Professor. I expect I'll be seeing you soon."

He gives a small smile in return. "I'm afraid I need to make the announcement while the headmaster and Professor Snape deal with the ministry.—and start working with Minerva on arrangements for the Ravenclaws."

Dumbledore raises a hand. "Miss Weasley, if you'd be willing to stay and attest to having witnessed Miss Lovegood's death, it will go a long way in securing her safety."

"Of course, Headmaster." She throws her arms around Luna, squeezing tightly.

(Tears pool in her eyes as the reality of the situation begins to sink in.)

"Watch out for nargles," Luna teases, eyes twinkling. "Also, tell Neville and Pans they're soul mates, will you? They're both so nervous and it's not necessary. They need to know so they can communicate going into this war."

Ginny laughs through her tears, the sound muffled by her best friend's shoulder. "I love you. Take care. Make this lot write me letters on your behalf, will you?"

"I will. I love you too."

The three of them reach out to touch the ratty newspaper Dumbledore holds out—

And then they're spinning, flying, nauseous, until they're thrown into the grass just outside Andromeda's wards

/

It doesn't hit till they're inside—then they all nearly collapse onto the couch, all of the energy draining from their bodies.

Andy and Ted are there in a moment, Ted brandishing water bottles and snacks he holds out and threatens to force them to consume at wandpoint. "You're all in shock, and I won't have anyone fainting unnecessarily under my roof."

"Dad told you?" Harry asks timidly, the exhaustion visible in his eyes.

"He did," Andy confirms. "We're very glad you're okay, Luna, and you're more than welcome to stay here for as long as you need. The wards and protections are nearly impenetrable, and we're going to cast a Fidelius as well in just a bit."

Hermione lets out a deep breath for what feels like the first time all day. "Where's Sirius?"

"Running some errands for the Order—we haven't been able to send a Patronus yet, because what he's doing is rather sensitive, but he should be back soon."

The floo flares up, and Hermione tenses until Tonks's voice calls, "Just me!"

It's a mark of how much the day has fucked with her head that it doesn't even cross her mind that the older woman would've brought her son until he's right there, a cooing form with green hair in her arms as she enters the room.

"Oh," Hermione gasps, and it's—she's loved him since she knew he existed, of course, but the moment she meets his eyes it absolutely overpowers her, the love she feels for him. "Teddy."

Tonks grins at her, moving her arms to hold the baby out. "Go on, then."

Hermione's on her feet instantly, reaching to pull his tiny form to her chest; she's careful to keep an arm under his neck, the way she'd read to in the baby books she's immersed herself in in preparation for his arrival. "Hi, you. I'm so glad to finally meet you."

He smiles up at her, and the second his gaze lands on her his own tufts of hair go brown with blonde at the ends, waving as much as they can for as little hair as he has.

"Thought you lot could use some serotonin," Tonks explains. "You good to watch him while I go outside with Mum and cast the Fidelius?"

"You'll have to pry him out of her hands," Harry says teasingly, though he's stroking Teddy's hair with such adoration it's clear he won't be giving him up voluntarily any time soon, either.

An hour or so later, once the Fidelius is cast and Sirius is home, Luna retreats to her room to process and come down from the day's events.

(Dumbledore had sent a message to her father that morning, imploring him to go into hiding and allow the Order to protect him; he'd refused, insisting he wouldn't live in fear and remaining at home.)

(Luna hadn't seemed surprised, but received the news with a resigned sadness, before asking to be left alone for a bit.)

All the while, she doesn't show a hint of regret; she clearly doesn't love her current circumstances, but never for a second doubts she's done the right thing. Wouldn't take it back even if she could.

(It makes Hermione respect her even more.)

Hermione and Sirius are in the living room with a movie on, though they're not paying it much attention; Harry's asleep, head on her lap where she'd been stroking his hair to soothe him, the distress consuming his mind at his soulmate's peril.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asks, giving her a look. "You always force yourself to be strong for him, but be honest. How are you?"

"I'm—" she's on the verge of saying fine, but his gaze is burning into her and the emotions are threatening to drown her, and she lets a shuddering breath out. "Not great. Struggling. My own mental state isn't the best, and Draco's going through hell, and now this…and this is only the beginning." Her voice breaks. "Sirius, people are going to die. I know it, this is war, and they will, and I don't—I don't know how we'll get through it when it's already taking everything we have just to keep breathing."

He grimaces, but nods with understanding, offering a mug of hot tea with one hand while the other moves to mute the tv. "It won't be easy, kitten. It's—all we can do is take it one day at a time." A small smile fills his face. "Lily—merlin, but she could be cheesy, that witch. When my brother died, I about lost it; was ready to kick the bucket myself, start running around till Death Eaters would attack so I could take some of them out with me. But Evans, she dunked my head in a cold shower, slapped me across the face till I sobered up. And then she looked me in the eye and said, 'Sirius Black, you have been through too much bullshit to give up now. You didn't make it this far to only make it this far,'."

Hermione can't help the grin that creeps onto her lips. "I think I would've loved her."

"Oh, you have no idea." His eyes are so wistful it hurts to witness. "Good thing that she said it, too, because Prongs was hyperventilating in the bathroom thinking I might try something and he wouldn't be able to stop me. Gave me a right talking to when she was done with me, asking what the hell would he do if I were gone, who would protect Harry if he and Evans—" he swallows heavily at the reminder, shaking his head. "Well, anyway. I think of it whenever things get bad again."

He clears his throat, meeting Hermione's eyes again. "We have made it through far too much hell for this to be it, Hermione. And I won't lie to you, it's going to be—horrible. This isn't even a fraction of what we'll face. But we will make it through. And when we do, it'll be a better world. A better life than you or I have ever had."

"I hope so," Hermione whispers.

/

The next Order meeting is—chaos.

It's the day after Hogwarts's winter break begins, so almost everyone there is under the impression Luna's dead, of course, so Harry and Hermione, have to act as though they're mourning.

(Not that it's exactly difficult, given that they're both severely clinically depressed, but nonetheless—it feels wrong, accepting everyone's heartfelt condolences. Watching the twins blink back tears.)

The only reason they're able to bear it is because according to all of their informants, the article's impact has been—explosive.

Voldemort's attempts to recruit have abruptly plateaued, his numbers even lessening some, and a significant number of previously "neutral" parties in positions of power have publicly come out as against the Death Eaters.

(It's no wonder he wanted Luna dead.)

And it's Cho's first meeting—apparently she'd reached out about joining several months ago, and was only recently vetted, so this is the first time she's been away from school to attend.

(It's the kind of thing that makes Hermione believe they might just win—one more face from a different house, one more familiar face turned ally.)

"The girl was brave, but publishing that was idiotic," one of the older members mutters. "Practically asking for him to kill her."

(When Hermione's head jerks up to glare at him, she realizes it's Aberforth, of all people; has to refrain from spewing profanities his way.)

Harry's on his feet in an instant, brandishing his wand with a steady hand, eyes deadly with rage. "Say that again, I fucking dare you."

"Harry," Hermione reaches for his shoulder, grip gentle. "You know I don't disagree, but maybe threatening someone in the middle of the meeting isn't the best course of action."

"It's not my fault he decided to insult my soul mate who just died for our cause," Harry snarls, voice echoing across the room. "He was practically asking for me to kill him."

She bites her lip to keep from laughing at the comment, knowing it won't help, however much she loves when her brother's sass comes out.

"She made her choices," Aberforth insists, arms crossed, looking unthreatened by Harry's wand. "It did our side some good, and I'm not trying to be insensitive to your loss, boy, but what else did she expect to happen?"

Harry moves to bound forward, murder in his eyes, and Hermione and Fred both hastily grab an arm each to hold him back.

"Luna 'ad more goodness in a single finger than you 'ave in your entire body," Fleur declares, her voice commanding the room. "You 'ave no place to judge the actions others take to stop a war you 'ave done next to nothing to prevent. You stand for nothing, and 'ave the audacity to shame the memory of someone who 'elped the Order to make more progress than we 'ave in the alst two years in a single day? I do not zink so. 'Eef I 'ear your voice again, I will show you exactly why I was Triwizard champion. And I will leave only bones be'ind."

Harry beams at her, and Hermione raises an impressed eyebrow, making a mental note to consult with her about effective curses later.

"Well put, Miss Delacour," McGonagall nods firmly, before calling the room's attention back to her.

The rest of the meeting is fairly tame, though the tension remains, simmering through the air as they discuss next steps, current threats, and recent actions on Voldemort's part.

They mention a prison break, and Hermione's stomach drops—they assume she's fearful of Lucius being free because of the battle at the ministry, reassure her that he won't have a chance to get to her.

(But it's so much worse than that; her mind is flooded with worst case scenarios of what her soul mate might be enduring at any given moment.)

After the meeting, she and Harry rise to walk the other younger members to the door.

"Thanks for vouching for me to become a member," Cho says to Cedric with a grateful smile, hugging him happily.

"I didn't know you two knew each other," Harry says with a surprised expression, obtuse as ever.

"Oh, Ced is one of my very favorite people," Cho beams. "Helped me when I got lost the first week of my first-year—not to mention he's brilliant at brewing and I'm shite at it, so he's been a godsend, making my estrogen potions until I was of age and could get my procedure done at St. Mungo's."

Harry raises impressed eyebrows. "Nice. I'm also a bit trash at potions, so if Hermione's ever busy I might bug you."

Rolling his eyes fondly, Cedric reaches out to ruffle his hair. "That's fine. Although you really should have at least a basic understanding of brewing, because otherwise—"

"Ugh, stop, now you sound like Mia."

"Who sounds like me?" she asks as she approaches, having walked the twins to the floo.

"Me. You know how it annoys him when anyone in his vicinity is responsible," Cedric teases. "By the way, let me know when you're free and let's get coffee one day soon, there's something I want to pick your brain about—I know a muggle shop not too far from here."

Hermione smiles with a nod. "I'll owl you."

As soon as the last of the guests are gone, she and Harry make their way to the table, where Remus holds out spoons and proffers the ice cream carton he's already digging into, his husband downing a glass of firewhiskey beside him.

"Mia," Harry says, staring up at the ceiling. "You're planning something to get back at Aberforth, right?"

His sister snorts, finishing another bite of the dessert. "Oh, of course. Like I'd let him get away with that bullshit."

Sirius grins wickedly; meanwhile, Remus lets out a world-weary sigh, allowing himself an abnormally large scoop of ice cream. "Make sure you don't get caught, will you?"

"When have I ever been caught doing something wrong?" she asks innocently. "No one's ever found out about the Polyjuice, or the breaking out a fugitive, or Rita, or Roger."

Remus's eyes go wide. "What did you do to Roger?"

"Who the hell is Roger?" Sirius demands, looking put out at being left out of the loop.

"A rapist," Hermione smiles sweetly. "Not mine, obviously." She bursts out laughing darkly at her own joke, but tries to rein it in at their stricken expressions, holding up her hands in apology when Harry scowls at her. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist. It's easier if I joke about it. Anyway, he's a piece of shit, but I took care of him. And told him if I heard about him doing anything I specifically forbade him to do, I'd be back, with Sirius this time."

"Right on, kitten," Sirius smirks, reaching out a fist for her to bump.

Remus's stress is palpable. "Hermione, how exactly did you take care of him?"

"Ever heard of the curse of Cain?"

(He tries to give her a disproving look, but his lips twitch, and she knows he's holding back impressed pride.)

/

Christmas day comes, and it's—they're all pretending like there's not a war on.

Which—it's nice, to not think about all the darkness for a day.

(But at the same time, it so clearly weighs on all of them it feels like a joke not to acknowledge it.)

Percy and Tonks are passed out on a couple of couches in one of the rarely used sitting rooms Sirius had added on to the Manor, grateful for the reprieve as Molly and Andromeda argue back and forth about whose turn it is to hold Teddy, even going so far as to set timers to keep it fair.

Mid-afternoon, Bill swoops between them to snatch him, earning giggles from the baby, who loves to tug on his hair and stare at his earring.

He eventually hands him off to Fleur, who begins whispering and singing to him in French, dancing around the house with him smiling in her arms.

Hermione snickers when she catches the blonde's soul mate looking on in awe. "Baby fever much, Bill?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." He grins and winks at her. "This is actually part of my plot to convince her to start trying for one of our own. She's more prone to doing things when she thinks they're her idea."

Ginny laughs beside her, entirely unsurprised.

"Oh my god, you're incorrigible." Hermione shakes her head, but can't help but smile at the thought; Fleur and Bill will be phenomenal parents, it's so clear. "It would be nice for Teddy to have a cousin."

"Right?" He sighs, expression growing serious. "I know having a kid in the middle of a war is a bad idea, but selfishly—if I die in the war, I want to at least have had a moment with them, you know? To at least have seen my child be born before I go."

"I don't think it's selfish," Hermione says softly, searching for the right words. "It's natural—to want our dreams fulfilled before we're extinguished. To want to at least glimpse the thing we're fighting for."

Bill nods, but eyes her carefully, like he's trying to figure her out.

(Trying to figure out what dream it is she's fighting for.)

It's a hard day, overall; Luna's hiding while the Weasleys are over, of course, with the stash of muggle books Remus had procured for her to be able to continue her passions without being detected.

And Ron's wrought with guilt, darkness, and sorrow; it's killing them to keep it from him that she's really alive, knowing how deeply affected he is by the belief that it's his fault she's gone.

(He can barely look Harry in the eye, most days, though his best friend keeps desperately reassuring him it's not his fault.)

It's just become so clear, how much of an impact the war's already had; the twins mentions the altered shop hours and precautions they've had to take, the floo they've had to open so Oliver has a safe way into the flat when he gets in late from away matches.

They're all smiling, and happy, and together, but beneath it all is a veneer of anxiety and sadness that can't be fully quelled.

Later that night, after the guests have gone home, and Tonks and Percy have receded to put Teddy down and keep from destroying his already messy sleep schedule, they're all sitting around the living room, talking with carols playing in the background.

An owl flies in, straight to Remus, who frowns with concern.

"Who would write at this hour?" Hermione wonders in a whisper to Harry and Luna, who both shrug.

"Order business, maybe?" Harry suggests.

But Hermione watches her pseudo-guardian's face—the grim set of his jaw as he reads the missive; the sorrow with which he raises his face to the room.

She makes eye contact with Andy, both of them wearing a look of knowing.

(The look on his face—it's one that means someone's dead.)

"I'm afraid Voldemort has struck again," Remus says softly.

(The way he says it, so careful; it's someone they know. Someone whose death will hurt them.)

They all look up at him, anxious, just waiting for him to rip off the band-aid.

"It—" he blows out a deep breath, mouth turned down in an apologetic frown. "Luna, I'm so sorry, but your father—"

(This is war.)

/

"The Dark Lord requires your presence."

Draco's blood turns to ice, both because of the words themselves and the speaker. He gets to his feet rigidly, controlling his expression as he faces his father.

He follows him to the dining room where Voldemort is currently holding sway, passing Greyback along the way. Nagini slithers along the hallway, hissing to Ella, who's taken to tagging along with the Parkinsons most days.

The Dark Lord in question waves for him to come closer rather than sitting at the table, motioning to kneel a yard from the seat he's in.

(Draco's kneeling at his feet as though he's a king, it's—insanity.)

(How did they get here?)

"Your attempts to take out Dumbledore thus far have been not only unsuccessful, but pitiful."

Draco swallows heavily, but shows no fear. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I'll do better going forward. I won't disappoint you again."

A slicing hex swipes his cheek, but before he can register the blood slipping down his skin—

"Crucio."

(Agony.)

(Lightning in his bones, every cell shattering, every nerve ending being pulverized-)

(He can't think, can't feel—there's nothing but pain.)

He's panting when it ends; it's a curse he's been subjected too countless times, but it feels different from every caster.

(And Voldemort is much more powerful than his father.)

"Yes, you will," Voldemort's silky voice whispers. "If you fail again, your life will cease. Furthermore, you must procure a way for Bellatrix to subvert the wards and enter the castle. If you haven't done so by the last day of term, your mother dies."

Draco can't keep his eyes from going wide, then, horror flooding him at the threat.

"Oh, I picked through your father's memories a bit to see if there might be a more…persuasive….method for encouraging you to succeed." He casts the cruciatus again.

(Pain. Aching. He can't breathe from the excruciating madness of it.)

"And let me be clear, Draco—it will not be a peaceful death." He smirks, red eyes flashing. "So if I were you, I would find a way to succeed."

"Y—yes, my Lord." The words come out raspy, his breathing still shallow. "I understand."

"Good. But just in case you need a bit more reminding…" Voldemort turns his head to the corner of the room. "Bella, take him into the drawing room and make sure he knows what's at stake, will you?"

"Of course, my Lord. It would be my honor."

His aunt drags him to the other room, eyes bright with mania as she raises her wand.

(His muscles still twitch even after he's lost consciousness from the pain.)

/

"You've been watching the girl for months." Voldemort speaks quietly, but his voice carries—even a whisper resounds throughout the room.

(It's just the two of them.)

The spy nods, anxious at the prospect of giving his report.

(Of what the punishment will be if the information he's gathered isn't enough.)

"Yes, my Lord. The girl is—clever, but only in facts; she doesn't do well with abstract concepts or non-academics, often. She's quick at learning new things, but is often hesitant to use spells and information prior to entirely having mastered it. She allegedly has a muggle boyfriend, though I've never seen her send off letters to him so I have a theory that she made him up to prevent mockery from other students. She's close with all of the Weasleys, as is Potter, and she also seems to be good friends with Zabini, Parkinson, and Longbottom. She and Potter—"

He chokes on his own tongue, as he had the last time he'd attempted to reveal ASA to the Dark Lord. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I am—still bound not to say certain things. But suffice to say they are large proponents of and contributors to house unity and have allies across the school."

"One of Dumbledore's ilk, then." Voldemort sneers with disgust, eyes narrowed in thought. "Is she close to the old fool?"

"Not at all. I've never seen them speak—the rumor is she hates him, actually, though she never speaks about it publicly. She is close with McGonagall, and Lupin, obviously."

Humming, the Dark Lord strokes Nagini. "Perhaps her distaste for Dumbledore can be used to our advantage. What are her weaknesses?"

"She's soft," he blurts out, worried he'll be crucio'd if he hesitates. "She's a sucker for kids, or anyone who's hurt and in need. She drops everything to help even the half-giant that works as gamekeeper, has neglected her studies to do research on elf rights, is late to even Snape's class if a first-year needs help. Any time someone needs her, she's incapable of doing anything but helping them. It's pathetic."

"She won't have the strength to make the sacrifices this war requires," Voldemort says, smirking as the beginnings of a plan form in his mind. "Very well. Get out. Continue keeping eyes on her—I want to know everything. You'll receive word when I decide how you'll deal with her."

"Yes, my Lord."

He hurries out of the room, trying to be gone before the leader in question can decide to torture him for kicks.

(The man that was once Tom Riddle smiles as he begins to craft a way to take her out of the equation.)

(As he begins to craft Harry Potter's downfall.)

A/N: chapter title from you're gonna go far kid by the offspring

I can never tell if what I'm writing is actually that sad or if it's bc my writing playlist is emo af and I am prone to crying lmao

Thank you for your continued love for this story. pls take care of yourselves. all my love