A/N: I know it's been forever. But in my defense – I have been writing…the issue is I just keep writing way too much there is no END. As I was writing the final chapter, it was almost getting to 50+ pages before I realized this is way too long and I've kept everyone waiting for too long. So I've decided to publish half of the final ending first, and then once I polish up the second half + epilogue, I'll upload that soon after along with a few one-shots/post-epilogue shorts. Again, I apologize for the wait but life happens and I'm just thankful you all have stuck around this long to begin with :)
Happy Reading!
P.S: Here's some songs I listened to while writing this chapter:
Runaway – Ramin Djawadi (Specifically for this first section below)
Skyfall – Adele
Wires – The Neighborhood
Happy Now – FINNEAS
I Wanna Be Yours – Arctic Monkeys
There exists an old aphorism: the more things change, the more they stay the same.
The world has suffered under the rule of countless empires–all of which met the same downfalls at one point or another. Ships travelled across the vast seas, only for men to look up at the night sky and be subjected to the same view of the constellations from hundreds of miles away.
It's almost as though there is a greater narrative you and I are tied to. Our surroundings can shift, people can come and go–but our endings remain the same. And yet, we spend a lifetime trying to break free from a fate we cannot escape.
For some, it's quite a disturbing realization. For others, it's a breath of fresh air.
In the end, that distinction happens to be the only thing that matters in this life, or the next.
Lestrange Manor [February 3rd]
Hadrian Riddle pursed his lips as he leaned back in his stiff leather armchair and set his drink down beside half-melted ice cubes rattled in his empty glass, causing everyone in the room to stiffen even before he lifted his head and fixed them with an equally cold stare.
"What do you mean 'she's gone'?" Hadrian tapped his fingers against his knee, careful to keep his fury contained behind a frighteningly blank expression. "How could you let her out of your sight?"
Neville scowled. "For starters, she's soon to be my wife, not my pet." He tugged at the restrictive tie wrapped around his neck, letting out a harsh breath once he finally managed to loosen his collar. "Did you expect me to keep her on a leash? Lock her up in a glass cage?"
"I expect you to keep her alive, at the very least," Hadrian retorted. "Destiny hasn't been in the right state of mind for weeks now. How could you let her disappear?" He pressed a closed fist to his lips and hissed, "What if something happens to her?"
"Hadrian, Destiny left out of her own volition. You're quick to forget she's a grown witch." Daphne hesitantly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If she has disappeared, I'm sure it's not without reason." She glanced over at Neville and raised an eyebrow, "Did she say anything before she left? What happened, exactly?"
Neville ran a hand over his tense jaw. "Apparently, she's been forcing herself to look past what she can normally see in the future. It's left her in a disturbing mental state for a while now, but she seemed determined to find the answers to her questions."
Hadrian gritted his teeth. "So, my sister admits she's trying to get herself killed–and instead of coming straight to me with this information, you decide to let her continue on her suicide mission? And then, you lose her?"
"I didn't lose her," Neville snapped. "Destiny was relentless. She begged me to keep searching the future, Hadrian. She claimed she could finally see the end." His eyelids shuttered as he whispered, "By the time I turned around to stop her, she was already gone. The only thing she left behind was this note." He dug through his pockets, holding the half-charred scrap of parchment out to the room.
Daphne stared between them for a short moment before reaching out and plucking the note from Neville's hands. Her brows furrowed as she read over the note once–twice.
"I'll take care of one, if he takes care of the other." She blinked, slowly raising her head in confusion. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"Not particularly," Hadrian huffed, crossing his legs as he leaned back into his chair.
Draco cleared his throat, breaking his silence for the first time that evening. "Maybe Granger can take a look at it," He suggested. He held out his hand expectantly and added, "She practically spent every night in Hogwarts solving these riddles just to get into her common room."
Daphne shook her head, "I don't think this is meant to be a riddle, Draco." She passed him the folded note. "It's a promise."
"I don't give a fuck what it is," Hadrian growled under his breath, suddenly standing up from his seat. "My sister is missing. She's not in the right state of mind to be roaming about on her own. We need to find her before someone else has a chance to harm her."
"Do you think I haven't tried?" Neville scoffed. He didn't wait for a response and continued, "As soon as I noticed Destiny was gone, I tried to track her. But the tracing charm only led me as far as the dungeons the Lestranges keep below." His shoulders sagged in disappointment as he sighed, "Obviously, she wasn't there."
"What was she doing down there?" Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "She's always avoided the dungeons like the plague." His gaze flickered with a hint of turmoil, and he turned away from his friends. "What in Merlin's name has she gotten herself into now?"
"Do you reckon she needed something from Aunt Bella's personal collection?" Draco cracked a humorless smile. "Slow-acting poison? Cursed blade, perhaps?"
"Whatever it is," Daphne folded her arms across her chest and pointed out, "Destiny has always been a clever witch. If we can't track her, it's likely because she doesn't want to be found." She noticed Hadrian begin to protest, and she shot him a placating look. "Hadrian, there must be a reason she left without saying a word to any of us. She must have seen something in the future–something that forced her to act immediately. The only thing we can do now is trust her."
"Trust her?" Hadrian snorted. "She's been trying to drive herself into a comatose state through her bloody visions for weeks now. What if she's finally snapped? How are we supposed to trust her when she's gone half mad?"
Daphne pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid we don't have a choice."
The Burrow [February 10th]
Alexander Potter tucked his hand into the pocket of his robes, curling his fingers around his wand as he watched a few familiar faces take their seats at the magically enlarged table in the Weasley family's sitting room.
"Please, take any seat you'd like," He instructed the group, hiding a grimace at the empty chairs that lined the table. Usually, they were always reserved for the higher-ranking officials in the Order…but there was no use for rank or status anymore.
Not when half their members had died fighting for their cause, and the other half were torn between their own loyalties.
He waited a few more seconds for people to trickle into the room, nearly holding his breath as they all turned their expectant, heavy, stares onto him. Parvati nudged his foot under the table, and he swallowed hard before standing up to address the small crowd that had gathered before them.
"Thank you for coming," He smiled tightly, scanning the room to see an odd mix of hardened ex-Aurors and weary members of the Ministry. "I'm sure you all are curious as to why I requested your presence this evening."
"Not particularly," A smooth voice called out. Nymphadora Tonks smirked at him from her seat towards the end of the table. "We all knew you must be getting rather desperate–what, with the public practically praising the regime of the new Dark Lord, and all." She leaned forward in her chair and hissed, "If he showed his face–just once–I'd–"
"But you have seen his face," Alexander cut her off impatiently. He nodded over at Ron, prompting his friend to stand up and slide a stack of newspapers down the table. The Order members around the table slowly picked up them up, staring down at the headlines splashed across the front pages.
Alexander cleared his throat, pausing until he had their attention once more. "I'm sure you've all heard of Hadrian Riddle before." His lips twisted into an involuntary sneer. "Some of you sitting here have shaken his hand, or even smiled as you stood beside him in front of the press."
"I don't understand," A man with greying hair glanced up from the newspapers and frowned. "Are you meaning to say this is the new Dark Lord?" He shook his head and scoffed, "He's nothing but a schoolboy."
"I can assure you all, he is anything but," Parvati spoke up softly. She shrank down in her seat when she felt several eyes on her, but still somehow managed to say, "He's always been dangerous."
"This is ridiculous," Alastor Moody rolled his eyes–both of them. "Before he died, your father insisted his other son–that would be your brother, Harry–was the new Dark Lord. He provided some rubbish excuse about the prophecy, but I hardly believed him even then." He wagged a finger at them almost accusingly, "And that means I certainly don't believe you now."
"Believe what you must," Alexander spoke calmly. His jaw tightened as he glanced at the rest of the room. "Harry–Hadrian Riddle–whatever trumped up title he goes by these days–it doesn't matter. They are one in the same. The Dark Lord my father was fighting is not the same man I have been fated to destroy. The Dark Lord that was mentioned in the prophecy was my own brother, Harry. I believe the world now knows him as Hadrian Riddle today."
There were a few gasps, followed by a low murmur that seemed to travel across the room. It was only when Ron slammed his fist on the table did everyone look back at them, clearly startled.
"Please listen to us," Alexander pursed his lips, slowly letting his gaze roam over the small crowd. "Hadrian Riddle may seem like a charming wizard, but he is not to be underestimated. He's barely seventeen and already has the wizarding world eating out of his hand. He doesn't waste his time terrorizing those with lower blood status or muggles he comes across." Alexander tapped the smiling face of his brother on one of the newspapers, gritting his teeth when the picture-version barely even flinched. "No, Riddle gained his power over the Ministry through careful eliminations and political blackmail. He's been the one pulling the strings in the shadows, slowly striking down each one of our men and replacing them with one of his."
Tonks nodded, "I remember his name." A flash of pure anger flickered across her face. "He's the one who killed Remus."
"Not just Remus," Ron pointed out darkly. "He's killed so many of the Order's members and supporters that his hands are permanently stained with their blood."
"B-But," A hesitant voice spoke up from the back of the room. "The new Wizengamot has started to pass fairer legislature ever since this shift of power occurred. And Minister Thicknesse has pushed for many progressive reforms on the restrictions of our magic."
"Wake up," Alexander snapped. "The Wizengamot, the Minister–even Hogwarts is under Riddle's control. The Ministry is nothing but his puppet at this point. He might have done some good, but it's only to cover up the crimes he continues to commit. Don't you understand? He's been the one behind this chaos and bloodshed for years and he will do anything to ensure he's in power." He fixed each member of the Order with a flat stare, "His sins cannot go unpunished. Otherwise, what will we call order in our world?"
Alexander slowly stood up from his seat and questioned, "What shred of morality will we have to hold on to?"
He walked alongside the length of the table. "What kind of world do you want to build for future generations–for your own children? One where they live in fear each day, or one where they understand and value the good in our society?"
He folded his arms across his chest as he stared back at his fellow Order members from the foot of the table, posing another question. "Will you stand for a world where people turn a blind eye to crime? A world where we become so immoral and undeserving of our own magic?"
He made his way back around the table, returning to his own seat with a final, imploring question. "For years, we've feared what lurks in the dark when there have been violent acts against our own kind in broad daylight. What right do we have to call ourselves members of the Light if we can't even uphold our own principles?"
Ron nodded in agreement, "We've always been the heroes. The Order has prevailed every single time for one reason: we are the only ones who know what is best for our society. Who else would be better suited to lead?"
Alexander leaned forward, resting his hands on the table so he could level everyone seated at the table with his solemn gaze. "I was born to be the Savior for the Light. Fate chose me to save us all from a world filled with eternal darkness. I need your trust, and most importantly," He hesitated for a moment before declaring, "I need your help. All of you."
"All of us?" Nymphadora repeated in disbelief. "What exactly is your plan here?"
"If they've never played fair, why should we? They've always counted on our inability to sink to their levels of ruthlessness – but that ends now. It's time to take back what has always been ours." Alexander smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "One last victory."
Draco Malfoy walked up to the rather unassuming looking cottage, hesitating for only a moment as he curled his hand over the railing beside the stone steps that led up to the verandah. Sunlight reflected off the gold plaque that hung beside the front door, easily catching his attention.
His eyes had just started to trace the engraved letters when the front door opened all of a sudden and a petite witch stepped outside with her wand drawn.
"Oh," Hermione Granger paused, slowly dropping her arm to her side after she registered his presence. Her gaze softened, "Draco, what are you doing here?"
"I haven't seen you around the Manor for a few days now." Draco raised a brow. "I wanted to see where you've been hiding out."
Her lips quirked up into a teasing smile. "Why?" Her long lashes fluttered as she took a step closer to him, "Did you miss me?"
"Don't play coy, Granger," Draco warned. "I did promise to keep you happy, didn't I? How could I fulfill that promise without blessing you with my wonderful presence?"
"And there's the arrogance," Hermione rolled her eyes. She let out a small yelp as his hand curled around her waist, tugging her flush against his chest. "Draco," She chided, "Anyone could see."
"Then invite me inside, Granger," He breathed softly, eyes darkening as he drank in her wild hair and flushed cheeks. "Give me the private tour."
She shook her head, trying to fight a smile. "If I let you inside, will you promise to keep your hands to yourself?"
"No," He snorted. "I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."
"Suit yourself then," She started to close the door, prompting him to quickly step into the doorway and block her path.
"Really?" He shot her an irritated look. When she refused to waver on her decision, he let out an aggravated sigh. "Fine. Show me your little project, Granger. I promise I'll be good."
Hermione laughed. "I thought you just said you don't make promises you can't keep." She reached for his hand and gently pulled him into the house, pausing to shut the door behind them. "I would be severely disappointed if you didn't go back on your word this time."
As soon as they were inside, Draco pulled her back to his chest and dropped his head to press a lazy kiss to the side of her neck. "Well, we wouldn't want that, now, would we?" He smirked against her skin when he heard her breath hitch. He slowly let his lips graze over the underside of her jaw, breathing in the warm honey scent that he had grown to associate with her.
The sound of a throat clearing nearby made him freeze, and Draco quickly glanced up to see a handful of old women staring at them from the sitting room. He slowly let go of the pretty witch in his arms and demanded, "Now, what the bloody hell is this?"
His brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the group of old women, noting that they seemed to follow his movements with an eerily empty look in their eyes. His jaw tightened and he turned to face his fiancé.
"Have you joined an old matron's club, Granger?" Draco shook his head, trying to make sense of the odd scene. "I already told you I would marry you–you can cancel your spinster membership now."
"Draco," Hermione smiled tightly and curled her hand around his arm, pulling him towards the kitchen. Her voice lowered, "They aren't spinsters. I hired them to be the caretakers for this place."
"Hired?" Draco repeated skeptically, "They look like they've been threatened at wand point and forced to be here." A flash of awareness crossed his sharp features, and he hissed, "Merlin, did you imperius these ancient bints, Granger?"
"Technically, I do pay them a living wage," Hermione wrung her hands together nervously. "But I can't allow anything–or anyone–to reveal the existence of this place before we're ready to officially open our doors. It's too much of a risk." Her troubled gaze flickered back to him, "So, I have to keep them under the Imperius curse."
"Granger," Draco began hesitantly, glancing around the tastefully decorated interior with a wide-eyed stare. "What is this place?" He took a step closer to her and whispered harshly, "I thought Daphne said this was an orphanage. Where are the children?"
Hermione sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, pushing a loose curl away from her face. "It is an orphanage…" She averted her gaze, glancing out the window with a slight frown marring her face, "…for muggleborns."
He ran a hand across his face, groaning miserably. "And what exactly does that mean, Granger?"
She swallowed hard. "Remember when I would share my frustrations about our world with you?" She wrapped her arms around herself, as though she were making herself as small as she could. "I've always felt like an outsider in this world, simply because I wasn't born into it."
Hermione saw a steely glint appear in his eyes and she quickly held up a hand to stop his inevitable protest. "Draco, I don't mean it as any offense against you all. You've always welcomed me into your lives–well, not you specifically, but you came around eventually, I suppose," She cracked a small smile, though he didn't seem very amused.
Hermione let out a sigh at the blank stare she received in return. "You don't understand, Draco. I was lucky to fall in with you lot, but if I hadn't? I would be even more lost in this world than I am now." She pursed her lips together and whispered, "It's as though everyone started off with a head start in their life, and I–I was the only one who didn't receive any instructions. I spent my first few years at Hogwarts learning as much as I could about this world to simply reach your level, to simply be worthy of acknowledgment." She dropped her gaze to her hands and her voice cracked as she spoke, "Do you know how that feels? To be utterly invisible?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably at her confession. "Granger," He began in a quiet tone, "What do you intend to do with this project of yours?"
"I think you already know," She let out a humorless laugh, standing up from her seat. She started to pace back and forth in the small kitchen with a serious expression. "Muggleborn children most often always choose our world over the muggle world. I've done my research, and I know very few maintain their connections with the muggle community after they turn of age." Her shoulders stiffened with anger as she recounted, "If they were part of the magical world from the beginning, they wouldn't have to suffer unnecessary prejudice. They wouldn't have to spend their early years at Hogwarts being ridiculed for things they can't control, like their blood or background."
"So what?" Draco watched her with unblinking eyes. "You intend on snatching them from the cradle? Forcing them to be a part of our world? Taking them away from their families?"
"They'd be better off here," Hermione maintained resolutely. "They could grow up just like the other pureblood and half-blood children. They could even be adopted by a couple in the wizarding world, people who would raise a child the way he or she deserves to be raised. They would have a better childhood and their transition to Hogwarts–or any other magical school–would be much smoother." She shook her head and insisted, "They don't need their muggle families. They need to be integrated into the wizarding world as early as possible."
"Hence, the 'Muggleborn Integration Project'," Draco realized aloud, remembering the golden plaque that hung outside the door.
"Draco," Hermione let out a shuddering breath as she confessed, "I used to dream of a magical world when I was a child. I would beg for someone to take me away from my family, for someone to save me from my father. When I started off at Hogwarts, I thought it was the answer to all my prayers." She bit her lip and turned away, "But it turned out to come with its own struggles. People looked at me as though I was no better than the dirt under their boots. Even though I tried so, so hard to prove that I was worthy of magic, people were slow to accept me because I didn't understand basic things about this world." She scoffed, "For Merlin's sake – did you know I didn't eat anything at dinner the first night we were sorted? I didn't understand how food could just appear in front of me when I was hungry. Did you know I was terrified to walk through the halls because I thought the ghosts were there to haunt me for all the things I've done wrong?"
"Even today," She held up her hand, showing off the nearly obscene diamond band that wrapped around her ring finger, "People know me as your muggleborn fiancée. They see me as a charity case, someone who the Malfoys are simply 'taking under their wing'. Even now, they don't see me as a human."
Hermione turned her gaze up to the ceiling in an attempt to stop the stinging sensation of unshed tears. "Nobody could help me, but Draco, these muggleborn children, they deserve better than that. They deserve to reach their full potential, to be given a chance in this world–without all the prejudice attached to their background." She swiped at her watery eyes, "They don't deserve to be forced to choose between this world and their heritage, like I was." She pressed her fingertips to her face and murmured, "They shouldn't have to choose sides."
Draco Malfoy was silent for a long, nearly unbearable moment. His eyes traced a slow path across her face, taking in the silent tears that trickled down her cheeks. He walked towards her without a single thought running through his mind, pulling her into his arms and slowly wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "Granger," He whispered, tilting his forehead until it gently rested against hers. "I can't even begin to understand what you experienced. What you endured is not something I want to see anyone of magical blood go through." He tucked a loose curl behind her ears and whispered, "But this idea of taking away muggleborns from their families–it's far more cruel than I think you realize, Hermione."
He pursed his lips. "Your experience with the muggle world was awful, but in the end, it was your choice to turn your back on them." His mouth twisted into a grimace. "How would you have felt if that choice was taken away from you, Granger?" He curled his hand around her chin and his voice turned hesitant, "Or imagine the opposite. Imagine even if it was our child. How would you feel if they suddenly went missing, never to be found?"
The combative look in her eyes dimmed somewhat and he sighed. "Look, I've never been one to defend the muggle community. I was practically raised to do the exact opposite, in fact. But even I can admit that tearing apart these families is not the answer to our problems." His jaw tensed, "We started this war to destroy the Order but it's become more than that, Granger. If we take away this freedom from innocent people–we're no better than them, don't you see?"
He smiled softly, "You're a brilliant witch, Granger. It took me far too long to admit it, but I stand by my words. I know you can find a better way to integrate muggleborns into our society."
"But how?" She frowned. "Whenever I think of the root of this discrimination muggleborns face, it always comes down to how unfamiliar we are with the magical world. By the time we arrive at Hogwarts, we're already eleven years behind. Eleven years too late."
"Granger," Draco murmured, taking a step back. "Perhaps burning all the boats behind you isn't the answer. Why should anyone have to choose between one world or another?" He picked up her hand, slowly lacing his fingers through hers, "Surely a bridge would suffice."
Hogwarts [March 1st]
Severus Snape stormed into the Great Hall, swiftly making his way to the head table at the end of the room. He remained silent until he settled into the ornate chair reserved for the Headmaster, allowing his blank gaze to pan over the unusually full room.
A dull feeling of annoyance settled at the base of his skull as he studied the grim faces of his students seated at their tables. His sharp eyes tracked their movements, noting how they seemed scared to even breathe in his presence.
"And what, might I ask, is the meaning of this?" Severus raised a brow. "Has there been a change in the meal schedule for you all to gather into the Great Hall at this hour?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," Minerva McGonagall hissed under her breath. "You're the one who called us here." She pursed her lips in disapproval, "You must be aware the students have early morning classes. How are they meant to pass exams if you demand their presence for such tedious announcements at odd hours of the night?"
"Has your age finally caught up to you, Minerva?" Severus drawled. "Why would I gather the students and the faculty together? I have better things to do with my day than to babysit you all."
"Of course, Merlin forbid you have to be a decent Headmaster for once," She rolled her eyes at him.
"Why would I need to do that when I have a deputy as brilliant as yourself?" His lips curved into a tight smile. He stood up from his seat before the older witch could snipe back at him and turned to address the students. "There seems to have been a misunderstanding," He spoke stiffly, "The prefects will escort you back to your dormitories. We will resume classes as scheduled tomorrow morning–"
"Not so fast," A harsh voice called out.
Severus narrowed his eyes as Alexander Potter stood up from the Gryffindor table and turned to face him.
"Potter," Snape sighed, unable to hide the disappointment that bled into his tone. "Have you decided to finally enroll back into the seventh year?" His lips curved into a sneer. "I'm afraid you might not be able to catch up this late into the term. Perhaps you'd like to sit for the sixth year instead, hm?"
Alexander Potter glared at the older wizard. "You know," He began in a carefully controlled voice, "Sometimes I'm relieved Headmaster Dumbledore is dead. If he were to see the ghastly production you've turned this school into since his passing –" He inhaled sharply through his teeth. "It would probably kill him."
"What a pity," Severus deadpanned. "Shall we thank our lucky stars he's already dead, then?"
"You've turned Hogwarts into a mockery of education, Professor," Alexander Potter spat. "You're holding these students against their will, forcing them to study the Dark Arts, turning them into soulless little puppets for the regime you, yourself are nothing but a lowly servant for."
Severus Snape scowled, but before he could respond Theodore Nott called out, "What are you on about, Potter? We're not bloody oppressed. And marks are higher than ever now that we have more competent instructors, for your information." He paused and hid a smirk, "Not that you would know that –what, with you being missing for the entire term, and all."
"The Dark Arts should have no place in Hogwarts," Alexander shook his head. Something vicious flickered in his gaze as he hissed, "Don't you all see? You're believing all their lies. The new administration in the Ministry isn't here to help people like us. They simply want power–even if it involves creating more chaos in the end. You have to listen to me–I'm the only one who's brave enough to speak the truth."
Severus Snape gritted his teeth together in clear irritation. "Potter," He snapped, "Might I kindly request you take your raving delusions elsewhere? If you stopped staring at your own reflection for just one second, you would see that not a single soul in this hall is standing by you."
Alexander Potter allowed his wild gaze to travel across the room, noting with slowly growing fury as several members of his own house avoided his eyes. The entire Gryffindor table seemed to be frozen in uncomfortable silence, for the first time in practically a decade.
He swallowed hard. "No matter, I don't need your support," He growled the word as though they had personally offended him. "I'm done playing your silly games." He said simply, turning around on the spot. He began to walk towards the doors at the end of the hall, purposefully ignoring the stares he received from the entire room.
"A hasty retreat would be safest for you at this point," Severus Snape nodded in agreement, "The last thing you would want to do is declare war, eh, Potter?"
Alexander Potter slowed to a stop at the end of the Gryffindor table. Before anyone could react, he dragged a small first year girl out of her seat, yanking her to his side with a tight grip around her arm.
"I'm so fucking sick of people not taking me seriously," Alexander chuckled quietly, turning back to face the head table. He whipped out his wand and dug it into the Gryffindor's neck, causing the first year to burst into sobs. "Let me tell you how this is going to go, Professor," Alexander smiled humorlessly, "You're going to drop the wards around the school so the Order members can enter the grounds. Perhaps once they regain control from the bloody Death Eaters you have guarding the castle, things might go back to normal."
"Or what?" Snape snorted into his wine glass. "You're going to off a little girl?"
As if on cue, the first year cried even harder.
"Severus," Minerva McGonagall whispered discreetly. "I-I don't think you should provoke Mr. Potter. Something doesn't seem right."
Severus Snape waved a hand dismissively at her warning. "Come now, Potter. We both know you're not going to harm a child–especially not one from your own house. Let the student go and we can discuss things as proper adults."
Alexander laughed, "No. I already gave you an opportunity to show your support. But unfortunately, you wanted to be difficult, and I don't offer second chances anymore." He twisted his wand further into the first year, "Now drop the wards, Professor."
"No." Snape responded simply. "And it's Headmaster to you, Potter."
Across the hall, Theodore Nott stared at the scene with wide eyes before abruptly standing up from his seat. He took a cautious step towards Alexander and adjusted the shining 'deputy' badge pinned to his robes. "Potter, you don't want to do this. Let go of Miss. Francis, immediately."
"Not until your Headmaster drops the wards," Alexander refused to tear his gaze away from the head table, though his grip tightened over the younger student.
"Rest assured, that will not be happening." Snape curled his lip into a sneer. "As Headmaster, it is my job to protect all students. Dropping the wards for your gang of derelicts to force an insurrection would cause multiple student causalities. Therefore, the wards will be staying in place."
"They aren't here for the students," Alexander countered.
"Your words mean nothing to me while you're holding a student hostage," Snape scoffed. "And even if they aren't here for the students, there could still be damage to the castle or students unintentionally caught in the crossfire. It's simply not a risk I am willing to take.
"You seem to be coming up with endless reasons to keep the wards up now, but if I recall, you did absolutely nothing when this castle was being attacked last year." Alexander raised his voice angrily. "You watched those Death Eaters storm the castle and you happily sat back and let them destroy everything back then."
"I wasn't the Headmaster then, was I?" Severus smirked. "Though it didn't seem like students were the target that night. Any destruction that occurred was an unfortunate consequence, though it could have been prevented had we received any direction from the Headmaster at the time."
"Dumbledore couldn't give you instructions that night because he was being fucking murdered!" Alexander seethed. He twisted his wand further into the younger Gryffindor and demanded, "Drop the wards, Snape."
"Alexander, please," The deputy Head girl, Padma Patil, stood up from her seat and nervously glanced between the two. "Leave the first year out of this–she's innocent. Please, just let her go. Think about the example you're setting for your house."
"That's the thing, Padma," Alexander blinked back at her with wide eyes. "I don't have to set any more examples. I don't have to think about that anymore because I don't have anything left to lose. I can do whatever the fuck I want. And you know what?" He let out a sharp laugh and shook his head in disbelief, "It feels fantastic to finally be free."
"As heartwarming as that little speech was," Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid the students have a busy day of classes tomorrow so if you could pack up your act soon, that would help us all greatly."
"Fine," Alexander Potter shrugged. "If you refuse to willingly drop the wards, then you leave me no choice. It's time you knew–I'm not in the mood for your games anymore." His spine stiffened abruptly, and he whirled around, brandishing his wand in a flash and pointing it directly at the headmaster.
He cleared his throat before his lips twisted into a smug smile. "Avada Kedavra."
There was a heavy beat of silence before the Great Hall suddenly erupted into terrified screams as the Headmaster suddenly slumped over in his chair, knocking over his wineglass, and causing a heavy burgundy stain to bleed through the pure white tablecloth.
The first year under his grip shrieked loud enough to shatter his eardrums, but he kept her roughly pinned to his side as he waited for their rather dramatic reactions to subside in the hall.
"A-Alexander," Minerva McGonagall was the first to break out of her shock as she began to sputter, "W-What is the meaning of this–"
"In the event of an acting Headmaster's passing or inability to perform his or her duties, the deputy headmaster will become the acting authority figure. And therefore, have access to the wards that surround the grounds." Alexander recited evenly. "Parvati says it's one of the first things listed in Hogwarts: A History." He raised his gaze to meet his former head of house. "I'm asking you only once now, Headmistress. Drop the wards. I don't want to hurt you or anyone else in this room."
Minerva McGonagall stood up from her seat and fixed him with a shrewd stare. "If I drop the wards, you will agree to let go of Miss. Francis and ensure no students are caught in the crossfire of your coup attempt?"
"Lion's honor," Alexander drawled.
Minerva narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Potter, I'm fully aware my lions have honor. I'm standing here because I am fully questioning yours."
Alexander Potter huffed. "Like I said before, your students are not our target tonight, Headmistress."
She eyed him skeptically for a few long seconds before letting out a heavy sigh. "Very well then, Mr. Potter. I only ask that you give us enough time to escort the students back to their dormitories before you allow your…colleagues into the castle."
"But Professor!" A seventh-year student stood up from the Slytherin table, "What if we want to join the fight?"
"Yeah," Someone echoed the thought over by the Ravenclaw side. "Shouldn't it be our right to fight–especially if we're of age? We want to show our support too."
"Absolutely not." The new Headmistress shut down the protests immediately. "You will all be returning to your dormitories without argument. Now."
"Don't be so hasty, Headmistress," Alexander called out, shoving aside the younger Gryffindor girl into a prefect's arms. "Let them fight if they want to. All they want to do is show their support."
"Oh, Potter." Theodore Nott laughed and shook his head. "Your arrogance blinds you. Do you really think after killing our Headmaster in cold blood that any of us Slytherins would fight for you? In fact, I doubt there's anyone in this hall that's thinking of supporting you. Not even your own house, especially after the stunt you just pulled." His eyes darkened with warning, "Make no mistake. If we're fighting, it's for Hadrian Riddle. Not for you."
"The Slytherins are going to fight, regardless of what McGonagall says." Theodore Nott whispered quietly to Padma Patil as they supervised the prefects that were currently herding the students into their respective dormitories. "I've already sent an urgent owl to Riddle about the situation. He's the mastermind behind the new administration and my entire house stands with him, irrevocably. It's why I'm allowing for the fifth years and above to join the fight. The third and fourth years can watch the younger ones to ensure they don't sneak out."
Padma glanced up at him with wide eyes, "Nott, you can't be serious."
"We've been training for this–some of the older students for multiple years now," Theo confessed. "Potter will go after Riddle, but the rest of the Order can't be trusted. Half of them are ex-Aurors. In the end, it could become a sheer numbers game and we can't risk falling short. Frankly speaking, we need all the support we can get."
She faced him sharply, "Are you asking me to send my house into a war, Theo?"
He turned his attention back to the prefects shouting directions nearby. "I'm not asking you for anything, Padma. I'm simply informing you of my plans."
Padma averted her gaze and let out a shaky breath. "Ravenclaw voted earlier this year," She informed him quite plainly. "The majority of us have been in support of the new administration and all the changes under Headmaster Snape–former Headmaster Snape." She let out a soft whimper at the reminder before forcing herself to continue, "My sister has always claimed it's secretly Hadrian Riddle behind everything, but we never knew for sure. Either way–we're in support of Hadrian, but I'm only allowing the seventh years to fight."
Theo let out a heavy breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. "Fair enough. I'm also planning on passing along a message to Hannah and Ernie in case there's any Hufflepuffs feeling brave."
"And the Gryffindors?" Padma snuck a quick glance at the uncharacteristically quiet group in the halls. "What do we do about them?"
"The best we can hope for from them is neutrality," Theo pursed his lips. "But just in case, you heard what McGonagall told us earlier. We have to do what we can to ensure no one leaves their dormitories tonight."
"Isn't that unfair? Locking only the Gryffindors inside their dorms?"
"Our job is to help protect the students and faculty," Theo shrugged. "Considering the fact that one of their own already killed one Headmaster tonight, I'm not willing to take those chances."
"Hey!" Alexander Potter seemed to notice their hushed conversation and he marched over to them, "What the hell are you two whispering about?"
"Merlin, Potter, you can't even let me speak to my girlfriend in peace? Next thing you know, I'm going to have to get signed permission slips from you just to have a shag." Theodore Nott rolled his eyes, managing to school his features into a remarkably bored expression. "Now is there something I can help you with or did you just want to stand uncomfortably close to us to source ideas for your own pitiful love life?"
Alexander Potter shot him an annoyed glance before storming away in response. Theo made a childish face at the other wizard behind his back, and then turned his attention back to Padma.
"Girlfriend?" Padma raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "But aren't you–"
"You Ravenclaws are clever," Theo smirked. "But Potter isn't the first arrogant wizard I've managed to fool. And something tells me he certainly won't be the last." He winked. "It's surprisingly a lot easier than you'd think."
Potter has invaded the castle, killed Snape. Wards are down–Order arriving soon.
Send help, quickly.
T.N.
Three simple sentences forced Hadrian Riddle to toss his napkin back onto the ornate dining table and stand up from his chair. His heavy gaze panned over the people seated at the table–his friends, practically his family–and he swallowed hard.
Daphne seemed to understand the troubled expression he wore almost immediately. She pushed back her chair and stood up, prompting the silvery haired wizard sitting across from her to do the same.
"It's time?" Draco raised a fair eyebrow at Hadrian as he leaned over to help Hermione out of her seat–despite her insistence that she could do it herself. "I thought Potter would need a few more months at least to get himself together, maybe wrangle up some drunken supporters from the barrels of the countryside."
"It seems he doesn't wish to draw this out any longer," Hadrian muttered quietly, resting his hands on the table, "Or–" He hesitated before saying, "He's getting desperate."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Hermione wrinkled her nose, pushing away her plate of barely touched food. "If he's desperate, it means he's prone to making more mistakes."
"While that's true, that's not necessarily always the case." Neville pursed his lips, glancing over at Hadrian. "If he's decided to challenge Hadrian so abruptly, it could be something worse than just a desperate attempt to end the war." His hand curled around his wand. "It could mean he simply doesn't care to live or die anymore."
Daphne hedged a glance over at her fiancé, "Why would that change anything?
"He no longer fears death." A bitter smirk twisted at Hadrian's lips as he added, "A wizard who no longer fears Death certainly does not fear for a mere mortal." He crumpled the note Theo had sent into an angry fist. "He's sending us a message: he will not bow before me because he's no longer afraid."
"Looks like all the fresh air in the wilderness did nothing to clear that idiot's mind," Draco scoffed. "You're no mere mortal, Hadrian." His best friend spoke resolutely, "In the end, people always bow down to kings, whether they wish to or not."
By the time Draco was able to enact his agonizingly thought-out emergency plans and send out the proper missives to alert their supporters, almost an hour had passed. The sky was dark above their heads as they apparated to Hogwarts with no magic wards to block their path.
Hadrian stood in the Heads Dormitory with his hands crossed behind his back as Neville rattled off directions to their front line. His attention remained on the large window that overlooked the lake instead of the commands Neville was doling out, and his expression was so distant it was as though he were in a completely different plane of existence.
"You're overthinking," A familiar voice said from beside him, and Hadrian stiffened as he felt a soft hand slip into his own.
"Daphne," He blinked back the haze that clouded his mind, turning his head to meet her stormy blue stare. "I thought we discussed you were to stay behind."
Daphne lifted a shoulder. "You said some words. I chose to not listen to them." She took a step closer, and he automatically wrapped an arm around her waist as she rose up on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. "You owe me, Hadrian Riddle. I'm here to ensure I can collect what was promised," She whispered.
He turned abruptly, pulling her into the small alcove that housed a small kitchen in their dorms. "Daphne," His gaze traced her face, memorizing every single feature from her silky golden hair down to her perfectly pink lips. "You know I've never begged for anything in my life." He let out a soft breath. "But please, Daphne. I'm begging you now."
Daphne bit her lip. "Hadrian, I can't sit in that manor for Merlin knows how long, thinking about whether or not you all are still alive. It would kill me, Hadrian."
He stepped into her space, forcing her back against the wall as he came closer and closer until his furious breath touched her lips. "Do you think I don't feel the same, Daphne?" He cupped her face with his hands and shook her gently, making her eyes widen. "I need you to be safe."
His lips brushed over hers for just a moment, stealing her breath and causing her to unwittingly lean closer to him even as he pulled away.
"If you refuse to go back home, I need you to make me a promise in return, Daphne."
"What is it?" She breathed.
Hadrian leaned closer, slowly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "When the Head Dorms clear out, I plan to seal the wards behind me. Nobody knows the password to this room except Granger and I. There won't be a single soul able to enter and it will be safe." He held her tightly as he pressed his lips to her hair and murmured, "I need you to promise me you won't leave this room, Daphne. You won't open the door for anyone, not even Draco or Granger or me."
Daphne stiffened. "Hadrian, I–"
"I need you to promise me that no matter who calls out to you from the other side – you won't open the door," He demanded. "The wards can only be disabled by myself and whoever is inside. This is the only way, Daphne." A rueful smile broke through the urgent expression on his face, "Besides it's only fair. I owe you something and now you owe me." He raised an eyebrow at her, "And if there's anything you should know about marrying into my family – it's that we always keep a promise."
Daphne shook her head, letting out a watery laugh. "That's not even remotely true. I thought the Riddle family motto was 'kill or be killed'?"
"This is the family friendly version," Hadrian shrugged. He tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and pressed her further, "So? Do we have a deal, Miss. Greengrass?"
Daphne swiped at her eyes before reluctantly nodding. "I promise, Hadrian."
"Seal it with a kiss?" He grinned.
Daphne stared up at him, slowly leaning closer and closer until she suddenly turned her cheek to whisper in his ear, "That's not how the story goes, I'm afraid. How about everything and more once you come back to collect me from this proverbial ivory tower yourself?"
She stepped away from him then, but she didn't get very far as he tugged at her wrist and spun her around, dipping his head to capture her lips in a ruthless kiss. His hand curled around the back of her neck as he pulled her closer and he whispered against her lips, "I don't recall agreeing to play the part of some dashing white knight. I'm not the hero in any story, Daphne. "
She smiled at him with an indecipherable look in her eyes before stepping out of his arms. She watched him walk through the kitchen doors, unsure if he even heard the soft "You are in mine," that slipped out from her lips, lingering in the empty kitchen with an unsettling finality.
Meanwhile, Draco immediately made his way to Hadrian's side once he stepped out of the kitchen, not bothering to hide the mocking smile that lit up his usually cold features. "So," He almost purred as Hadrian walked over to oversee Neville's commands to their supporters. "That was quite the goodbye."
Hadrian didn't even bother to glance at him, avoiding the obvious bait as he chose to keep his attention on their recruits.
"Who knew the Great Hadrian Riddle had it in him?" Draco smirked, innocently tucking his hands into his pockets. He noticed Hermione pass by them out of his peripheral vision and a delighted gleam brightened in his eyes "Oy, Granger!" He called out, tugging on the sleeve of her jumper and pulling her to his side. "Glad I caught you."
"Merlin, Malfoy, what is it?" Granger demanded impatiently as though he had caught her attention simply to waste her time. Which, she was most certain, was his exact purpose, judging from the mischievous look on his face. "I was just about to meet Theo in the Slytherin dorms to relay some of the initial plans."
"That can wait," Draco waved his hand dismissively. He glanced at Hadrian and let out a clearly forced hiccup. "I–I just wanted to say something before we throw ourselves into the heat of battle."
"Alright then," Hermione placed a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. "Spit it out."
"Please, Granger–"
"I'm going to kill you," Hadrian muttered under his breath, though he still refused to give the blond the satisfaction of his full attention.
Draco scowled. "I wasn't finished." He made a show of clearing his throat before announcing, "Granger, my dearest, if I happen to perish in this merciless war–"
"You're not going to get a chance to perish in the war if I kill you right here," Hadrian hissed.
Draco snickered. "As I was saying," He turned back to Hermione who looked remarkably unimpressed by his performance. "Granger?"
"What, Malfoy?"
"Hermione."
She glanced at him curiously at the use of her first name and her eyebrows knit into a slight frown. "Yes, Draco? What is it?"
"If–if I perish, please–you must know–if you so desire to move on with another after my death–"
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, I know, I know. I have your blessing and all that rot, and I should focus on my own happiness."
Draco sputtered, abruptly forgetting the excruciatingly romantic lines he had planned to say next. "What? Absolutely not!" He shot her a glare, "I was going to say the exact opposite, actually."
Hermione arched a brow, "You mean, you don't want me to be happy? You want me to be miserable forever 'if you so perish in this war'?"
Hadrian coughed, though it suspiciously sounded like a laugh.
"Exactly." Draco nodded, as if to emphasize his point. "If you even think about replacing me with some lowlife swot, I'll haunt you for all eternity."
"And they say romance is dead," Hermione smiled sweetly, pretending to bat her lashes as her fiancé turned an interesting shade of red beside her.
Their moment of hilarity despite the inadvertent fight still ahead of them only lasted a few seconds when Neville jogged over to them wearing a grim expression. His voice lowered, "Any word from Destiny?"
Hadrian pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head.
Neville swallowed hard. "Perhaps it's for the best," He murmured. "If she's not here, at least we can hope she's somewhere safe."
"Yes," Hadrian drawled the word, clearly suppressing his anger. "We can only hope because my sister has given us absolutely no clue of her whereabouts. She could be dead right now, but it matters not," He let out a bitter laugh. "We're the stupid fools who still hope."
Neville sighed and patted him on the shoulder, "Sometimes, that's all we can do, Hadrian." He tilted his neck to the side till he heard a satisfying crack, "In the meantime, I suppose it's time we head out. There are Order members loitered throughout the castle, apparently, they've already tried to harm the few students that tried to stand in their way. And I also have reports Potter was spotted by the viaducts outside."
Draco snorted, "What? Does he expect Hadrian to go to him?"
Hadrian shuttered his lids, and his voice was silky as he spoke, "It's rude to go against a dying man's wishes, Draco." He straightened his shoulders and smirked. "If Potter wants to fight, so be it. I'll enjoy this victory even more so if I get to tear it out of his throat myself."
Daphne Greengrass felt the first pinpricks of panic seep into her skin when she saw the faint glimmer of magic from Hadrian's warding spell fade away, just as he had disappeared behind the thick oak door moments before. She crept closer, pressing her ear against the door, desperate to hear their footsteps and imprint the sounds to her memory.
Just in case, she told herself.
In case of what? The warring voice in her head taunted her.
She pursed her lips, unable to even think about the nightmares that had been plaguing her mind ever since they had started this bloody war. She pressed her back to the door but found herself unable to support her trembling knees as she slid down onto the cold floor, holding her head up with her hands. Their footsteps had almost faded away completely, and soon she was left with the sound of an empty room, and a distant rumble of thunder from outside.
She closed her eyes, resting her head against the door, forcing herself to clear her mind. She was a Legilimens, for Merlin's sake! She had to have control over her own mind.
She inhaled slowly, counting to ten and pushing aside her thoughts before exhaling just as slowly.
One. Two. Three.
Memories continued to fade away, shrouded behind a curtain in her mind as she continued to breathe, focusing on a crack in the floor instead of the troubling thoughts in her head.
Four. Five. Six.
She wasn't sure how long she sat with her back against the door, eerily still, as though someone had cast a spell over the entire room preventing her from moving even a single inch.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
A quiet sense of calm settled over her shoulders as the entire castle shook around her. Her hands pressed against the floor, until her fingertips nearly went numb from the freezing winter that seeped through the ground.
Ten.
A loud bang sounded on the door, and her eyes flew open. Her heartbeat nearly leapt into her throat as another bang was heard against the door and she scrambled up from the ground and away from the entrance. She trusted Hadrian with her life and she knew no intruder would be able to tear down his wards, but the fear crawled up her spine regardless of the fact. She let out a heavy breath, starting the count again in her head.
One. Two. Three….
There was another loud smack against the door and Daphne blinked in confusion. Once she had a chance to slightly reel in her fear, she noticed it sounded like someone was pounding on the door with their fists, as though they were knocking instead of trying to blast down the door.
She crept closer to the door and her chest tightened as she heard a pained "Please"from the other side of the door.
She pressed her ear to the door as the sound of heavy breathing filtered through the wood. "Please, please, please." A quiet voice sobbed from the other side. "They said we could always come to the Head Dorms for help." There was another soft whimper. "Please, I'm only a second year. I-I tried to sneak out to help my house – but–but they found me." There was another pause and Daphne heard the voice grow more distant. "Please, somebody? I-I don't want to die."
The cry of desperation in the boy's voice clawed at her very soul and Daphne chewed at her cheek, wracked with indecision. She glanced out the window and her lips twisted into a soft frown as her resolve hardened only a few seconds later. "I'm sorry Hadrian," She whispered under her breath as she turned to the door.
Daphne Greengrass waved her wand, quickly setting to work disabling the intricate wards Hadrian had set up. It took her a few minutes even with her intense concentration, and she was afraid the boy on the other side of the door had already turned away by the time she was able to curl her hand around the doorknob and push it open.
She could hear the magical seal break the second the door swung open, and her eyes widened as she saw the younger boy pushed against the wall beside the door, heavily bleeding out of a deep gash that ran all the way down his leg. Thick drops of blood were splattered all around the doorway and Daphne felt a chunk of ice settle in her stomach as the boy slowly opened his eyes and choked out a quiet, "Help."
That was all she seemed to need to take her mind off everything around her, and Daphne nodded quickly. She wrapped her arms around his torso, careful to keep his leg still as she slowly carried him into the common room, setting him onto the sofa gently. The blood stains clung onto her own robes, but Daphne couldn't think about anything except the nearly unconscious child in front of her.
As she ran a quick diagnostic to confirm he hadn't sustained any internal injuries, her gaze fell upon the bloody silver and blue tie the younger student had tied around his leg. "What's your name?" She asked kindly, gesturing over to the tie, "Was that your idea–the makeshift tourniquet?"
"I'm Cassian–Cassian Merlot," The boy panted. "I–I thought the tie would stop the bleeding."
"Well, Cassian," Daphne brushed aside his hair and smiled as she started to whisper a few healing spells over his leg. It was a rather nasty looking cut, but it was something that was easily fixable with the right training. "It was very intelligent to use your school tie as a tourniquet. It didn't quite stop the bleeding, but it definitely slowed it down enough for me to fix up your leg."
Despite the pained expression he wore, the boy seemed to smile at her gratefully. "I–I get to keep my leg?" He asked her, almost fearful of her answer.
"Yes, Cassian. Nothing will happen to you. You're safe here." She wrapped a bandage around his small thigh and smiled, "See? Good as new."
He hesitantly touched his leg and slowly sat up, as though he were testing the validity of her words. She helped him stand and he walked a few shaky paces in a circle before he turned to face her again.
"Thank you," He breathed, "You didn't have to help me."
Daphne shook her head, "You're innocent in this war, Cassian. I wouldn't have been able to leave you suffering out there alone, not even if I tried."
Cassian was silent for a moment before glancing at her with wide eyes. "W–What if there's more of us?" He swallowed hard. "I saw Susie the fifth-year prefect was hurt earlier too. But –But I couldn't help her since my leg was bleeding so much." His face dropped in shame, clearly regretting leaving his housemate behind.
Daphne sighed, "We do what we can, Cassian. Don't hurt yourself more by thinking in what-ifs."
"W-What if I bring Susie here now?" Cassian brightened. A desperate gleam entered his dark eyes as he asked, "You can help her too, right? You can help Susie?"
"I–" Daphne paused upon seeing the hopeful expression he wore. "I–Yes," She sighed. "Just try to bring her here if you can, okay, Cassian? Don't strain your leg."
"I'll bring her," Cassian promised, darting towards the entryway. He paused for a moment before whispering out a shy, "Thank you for opening the door."
Hadrian Riddle flexed his hand as he pushed through the castle doors, slowly making his way towards the arched stone bridge that he had crossed many times to get to class or meet up with his friends.
There was no rush to get to the other side of the bridge this time, however. Hadrian took his time strolling past the courtyard, letting his gaze rove over the rows of impressive viaducts that lined the grounds. Despite the biting cold and dark clouds above, it was almost unbearably silent outside the castle. Even the wind was quiet as it ruffled through his hair when he made his way across the courtyard.
It was a stark contrast to the violent sounds of battle and thundering spells he had heard from inside the castle walls. Something heavy twisted in his stomach at the thought of leaving his people behind to fend for themselves as he approached the stone bridge.
You take care of Potter; Neville had said to him through gritted teeth as he and Draco had ushered him out the door. We'll handle the rest of them.
Hadrian clenched his hand into a fist at his side. It was easy to say they had things handled, but what was the truth?
What if they needed him? What if they needed his help – but he was too late?
The thought practically tortured him with every step he took, almost enough to make him turn around right there. The only thing that forced him to keep walking ahead was knowing that once Potter was dead once and for all, there would be nothing else in his way. The Ministry was already in his grasp, the people were too enamored by their bread and circus routine to notice the shift in power, and even Hogwarts was another glimmering jewel in his crown.
Once Potter was dead, it was over.
It was the only thing that carried his feet over to the Viaducts. He paused at the end of the bridge, tucking his hands into his pockets as his gaze landed on the smug face of Alexander Potter standing by the other end of the bridge.
"Potter," Hadrian inclined his head to the side in lieu of a proper greeting. "Fancy seeing you here." A slow smirk curved at his lips, "I wonder–what might you be doing here at this hour? Making a wish on some unrequited love? Praying for a miracle, perhaps?"
"Something like that." Alexander Potter spoke coldly, taking a step closer. "But I stopped believing in miracles ages ago."
"This cannot be," Hadrian pretended to gasp. "Isn't your entire Light Side's campaign strategy fueled by rainbows and hopes and miracles? What happened to make their fearless leader so pessimistic?"
"Not pessimistic," Something like amusement sparked in Alexander's eyes. "Simply a bit more realistic."
"Still," Hadrian pressed, unable to resist provoking the other wizard. "What could have happened to the Chosen One to make him so morose?"
Alexander's features hardened. "He lost everything."
"Not everything."
The dark threat underlying his words didn't go unnoticed by Alexander Potter, and he swiftly turned to face Hadrian. "You've taken everything from me, Riddle," Alexander whispered, though it carried perfectly clearly in the cold air between them. "Did you really think I'd let you take my life without a fight?"
"That seems to be your track record, yes," Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest, seeming suddenly bored with their conversation. "And you're wrong, Potter. I only took what should have rightfully been mine."
"You have no right to any of this," Alexander shouted suddenly. "You have no right to this life, this kind of support from the people–Merlin, you don't even deserve the people that hold court around you–like you're some kind of king descended from heaven itself." He spat angrily. "You've spent your life like some bloody criminal, spilling blood and torturing those who don't fall in line with your greater agenda." A heavy shudder wracked through his tall frame as he pulled out his wand and hissed, "You don't deserve shite."
Hadrian sighed. "As invigorating as this conversation has been, I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for another Chosen One temper tantrum." He took a step towards the other wizard and pursed his lips. "You don't want to test me," He warned. "Put your wand away, and I'll grant you a quick death, Potter."
A harsh look came over Alexander's features. "No," He bit back. "You want me to surrender? You think I'm, afraid of you?" He let out a sharp laugh that sounded anything but amused. "No. Not anymore. I'm fighting for myself now," His lip curled into a sneer as he added, "Potter."
Hadrian tensed at the name, though he kept his features carefully blank, unwilling to give Alexander the satisfaction of knowing his cruel reminder had touched a nerve. Instead, Hadrian raised an eyebrow at the other wizard and made a show of reluctantly pulling out his wand, "You know, I hope when they depict this encounter in our history books one day, they'll see how I tried to be merciful." He shot Alexander an aggravated glance, "Despite your rather obvious provoking."
"What do you know of mercy?" Alexander scoffed, marching toward him with a furious expression. "You've sent a dozen people to their graves. You've tortured for sport. You've been cruel since you were a bloody child yourself." Alexander shook his head and demanded, "So I ask again–What do you know of mercy?"
"A dozen?" Hadrian snorted. "Well, I suppose that's rather generous of you. Let's just keep it at that."
"You're standing here, making jokes about the lives you took," Alexander scowled. "Not the slightest bit remorseful."
Hadrian rolled his eyes. "And why should I feel remorse? I didn't take their lives by accident. I don't regret my past because what I was forced to endure made me who I am today. It made me what I am today."
"What– a monster?"
"Invincible." A ghost of a smile appeared on Hadrian's face.
Alexander Potter snarled a curse under his breath, sending a flash of bright red light straight into his chest. A sharp sting cut through his skin and Hadrian cautiously grazed his fingertips across the shallow cut, coating his fingers in the still warm blood that flowed freely from the wound.
"You don't look all that invincible to me," Alexander Potter called out in a triumphant tone. "You're no monster, Hadrian Riddle. Monsters don't bleed." Something dark and angry flickered in his gaze, "They can't control who they are but you– Harry Potter," Alexander spat the name as though it tasted like acid on his tongue. "You sealed your own fate. You can blame our family and our society as much as you'd like, but it doesn't change the face that this," Alexander gestured to him vehemently, "This wasn't just created by circumstance. This was intentional. It was carefully crafted and constantly reinforced by you until you finally became the villain everyone saw you as back when we were still in the cradle." He let out a laugh then, a genuine, but half-crazed sound of true amusement. "Even when you set out to get your revenge, all you did was prove them right. Self-fulfilling prophecy, much?"
Hadrian ground his teeth together and let his bloodied fingers curl tightly around his wand. "You better hope that doesn't leave a scar, Potter."
"Or what? Your wedding photos won't be as sickeningly perfect as you imagined?" Potter let out another cackle. "Do your worst, Riddle."
Hadrian smirked. "I did try to warn you."
Hogwarts: Great Hall [March 1st]
"Behind you, Draco," Hermione hissed under her breath as she blasted another member of the Order away from them. Draco had insisted on keeping her close by, and while she had initially thought his overprotectiveness was adorable at first, now she was starting to wonder if he'd insisted on her proximity simply because of her clearly superior dueling skills.
"I saw him," The aggravating blond retorted, though from the stiffness in his jaw, it was clear he hadn't seen the Order member creeping up behind them.
"You've got to pay more attention to your surroundings, Malfoy," Hermione chided, "How are we meant to move ahead if I have to watch my back and yours?"
"Fine," Draco grumbled, surprisingly agreeing without much argument. He paused for a moment and added casually, "By the way, it seems as though you've overlooked everything on your left," He stepped in front of her just as she turned to face the familiar face that had approached them.
"Professor Flitwick!" Hermione cried out, dropping her wand to her side. "I thought all the professors were with the students in the dormitories."
"Yes, that is where the majority of them were sent," Professor Flitwick nodded slowly. "But there were a few of us still loyal to the Order. Some of us that would rather die within these walls than see the castle in the wrong hands."
Hermione took a step back, bumping into Draco who reached out a hand to steady her. "You're a member of the Order, Professor?" Hermione murmured, almost to herself. "But you've never–I didn't know you were–"
"I'm not one of the flashier members, true," Professor Flitwick shrugged. "But I believe in fighting for what is right." A flicker of disapproval marred his aged features. "Something which I believed we held in common, Miss. Granger."
"Professor," Hermione swallowed hard as she stared at her Head of House. "I am fighting for what's right. If we win–it means I have a chance to change things. It means I can finally make a difference for people like me, for people like you."
Professor Flitwick shook his head. "And you were meant to be a fine Ravenclaw," He whispered sadly. "Is that what they told you, Miss. Granger? Is that what they told you–and you were foolish enough to have believed them?"
"Granger," Draco warned in a low voice, "Don't listen to him."
"We used to call you the 'Brightest Witch of her Age'," Professor Flitwick sighed in disappointment. "But I suppose it's always the brightest that fall the hardest under the spell of ambition."
"I don't understand," Hermione breathed. "I'm doing this for us, Professor. For people that felt unseen–invisible to the rest of the wizarding population. I'm fighting to give us a place in society that isn't looked down upon."
"You're fighting for yourself, and no one else, Miss. Granger," Flitwick cut her off with a severe frown. "I never took my brightest pupil to be so naïve. If you're going to sell your soul to the devil, I'd at least expect for you to admit you are doing so willingly." His blue eyes shuttered behind thin-rimmed glasses. "Frankly, I'm disappointed in the path you've chosen Miss. Granger."
"Professor," Hermione whispered, staring at her Head of House in shock.
"These people," Flitwick turned to scoff at Draco with a clear disapproval, "They aren't good people. They hurt, they maim, they kill, they torture. How can you believe a word they say? How can you stomach fighting beside them?"
"I–"
"Take a good look at the people you're fighting against, Miss. Granger." Flitwick gestured around the hall. "Students, faculty, public servants who are desperate to stop power from falling into the wrong hands. And yet, you still stand and fight for the wrong side?" He shook his head. "You should know where you belong."
Draco stiffened from beside her. "And where do you think she belongs, sir?" He demanded to know as an angry expression bled into his cold features. "You stand here, daring to shame my fiancéfor fighting for her own rights–all the while slipping in little hints that she should mind her place. Her place at the bottom of society, you mean?" He stepped closer to the smaller man and hissed, "Your Order has done nothing for muggleborns. Even Dumbledore, the so-called Patron Saint of muggleborns did nothing to make their lives easier in this castle. And I'll be damned if he didn't know exactly what was going on within these walls."
"Draco," Hermione tugged at his arm. "Just leave it."
"This is quite interesting," Flitwick peered at the blond from over his glasses. "What a curious phenomenon–never in my years would I have predicted a Malfoy to rush to a muggleborn's defense."
"She's more than her blood status," Draco growled. "She's a brilliant witch, first and foremost. She has a fucking bleeding heart and is fully intent on bettering the lives of those around her–even if they don't bloody deserve it. She thinks so much about how to improve this world, its quite literally exhausting being in her mind – but you never see her complain." He whipped his wand out and spoke evenly, "If there's anyone that is 'fighting the good fight', Professor, it's Hermione Granger – soon to be Malfoy."
Flitwick pursed his lips. "How….peculiar."
"I don't need your approval," Hermione spoke stiffly, raising her chin at Head of House. "I'm not a shy little first year desperate for your validation anymore. I don't need to prove my worth to anyone in this castle, including yourself." She pursed her lips and blinked slowly. "Out of respect for all the years I've looked up to you, I'm allowing you a chance to head back to the Ravenclaw dormitories safely, Professor. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't say the same for Draco."
As if on cue, Draco smiled menacingly at the smaller wizard.
"I'm giving you one opportunity, Sir," Hermione raised a brow, gesturing to the door. "Don't make me regret it."
Professor Flitwick sighed, though he sheathed his wand. "You were always so bright. Merlin knows where it all went awry."
"I was always so bright when I was under your thumb, wasn't I?" Hermione mused aloud. "If that's truly the case, then can I just say, I've never been more relieved to receive below average marks this time around."
Draco watched their professor scurry towards the Ravenclaw tower with a smug smirk. "I never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger received less than an Owl." His grin widened under her less than amused stare, "I can see it now: Hermione Granger – straight T student. Has a nice ring to it, if you ask me."
"Don't even joke," She muttered under her breath.
Italian Rivera [March 1st]
"Shall we venture into town tonight?" Astoria Greengrass leaned back on her barstool, studying her nails with disinterest. "I've been so bored lately. And we could certainly use the distraction. Maybe we could find a pub, or two."
Ginevra Weasley fixed her with an exasperated look. "I'm pregnant, remember?"
"Merlin, you can't keep using that as an excuse," Astoria groaned. "Besides, you don't even look pregnant." She squinted suspiciously at her friend's still flat stomach, "Are we even sure you're with child?"
"Did you not hear me bent over the toilet, vomiting up all the contents of my stomach this morning?" Ginevra shook her head, "I don't know how my mother did this seven times."
"Speaking of your mother," Astoria frowned. "Have you contacted her? Does she know about…" She waved her hands awkwardly in her direction, "Your condition?"
Ginerva bit her lip. "I haven't informed anyone in my family." She leaned against the counter, pressing her fingertips to her temples as though she were trying to push away an impending headache. "I can't risk it, Astoria, we're on opposite sides of this war. Even if I want to believe they wouldn't hurt me, I'm responsible for more than just myself now."
"What about the twins? They would never–"
Astoria's words trailed off all of a sudden as the floo roared to life from the other room. She immediately drew her wand, noting Ginevra had done the same out of the corner of her eye. She crept closer to the entryway, motioning for her friend to stay back as she poked her head around the corner.
Her shoulders nearly sagged in relief at the sight of the familiar witch that stood in front of the fireplace, covered in a light layer of soot.
"Destiny, what are you doing here?" Astoria greeted her cautiously, tightening her grip over her wand. Before Destiny could take another step forward, she quickly moved to block her path. "What was our favorite pastime as children?" She demanded to know.
"Feeding the ducks by the lake," Destiny responded with a slight smile. She held up her hands in surrender, discreetly stepping away from the dark-haired witch. "How have you been?"
Astoria cocked her head to the side, staring at the other witch shrewdly for a long moment before tucking her wand back into her robes. "I've been fine–it's Ginevra that's been suffering from the consequences of pre-marital intercourse."
"I heard that!" Ginevra called out, meeting them halfway as she padded out of the kitchen. "I keep having to use the loo every half hour, but other than that I'm doing alright, in case you were wondering."
"She's also been rather crankier than usual," Astoria muttered under her breath. "I can only assume it goes downhill from here."
"Have I mentioned how much I appreciate your support?" Ginevra smiled sarcastically. She turned to face Destiny, and her eyes brightened. "Please tell me you're here because you have good news. Is it safe to go back home?"
Destiny shook her head, "Not yet. I know you may feel isolated, but this is truly the safest place for you to be right now." Her gaze softened as she added, "Blaise loved it out here by the sea. Perhaps being here will give you some much-needed closure as well."
"If you're not here to bring us back…" Astoria furrowed her brows in confusion, "Then why are you here?"
"I-" Destiny hesitated for a split second before forcing out, "I wanted to visit his grave."
Ginevra nodded in understanding. "Do you mind if I join you?" Her gaze fell to the floor as she admitted, "I haven't had the courage to go up there by myself yet."
"No!" Destiny exclaimed. "You can't–I mean," She paused to take a deep breath, "I'm sorry, it's just, I would rather be alone right now."
"Okay," Astoria drew out the word, facing her friend with a wary expression. "We don't have to accompany you." She dropped onto a nearby couch and sighed, "We'll just spend another night here, bored to tears."
"I'm sure you'll find something to do," Destiny gave them a tight smile. "How about knitting?" She suggested. "I heard it's a truly invigorating hobby."
"Right," Astoria raised a brow. She glanced outside at the darkening sky and pursed her lips, "Destiny are you sure you want to go up there by yourself at this late hour?"
"I'm fine!" Destiny snapped. She whirled around to face them with an all too bright smile, "I'll see you once I'm back."
The two witches watched her leave rather abruptly, not bothering to hide the matching looks of concern they wore.
"Is she alright?" Ginevra raised the question first, staring at the slowly retreating form of Destiny as she began the difficult trek up the hill that served as Blaise's final resting place.
"Honestly?" Astoria chewed at her cheek, "I'm not sure. Did you get a look at her hands? They were practically burned to a crisp. When we were little, Daphne once mentioned Seers can go mad and start acting strangely because they've lost their footing on this plane of existence and that leaves their mind trapped– maybe that's what's happening?"
"No," Ginevra gasped, turning to face her best friend. "You think she's gone mad?"
Astoria stood up and made her way to the open door. She leaned against the doorframe with a roguish grin, "Only one way to find out."
"Astoria," The redhaired witch shook her head, "Didn't she explicitly tell us not to follow her?"
"So?" Astoria shrugged carelessly, "We're Slytherins. Sneaking around to spy on others is in our nature." She poked her friend and teased, "Come on, Gin. It's not as though you had other plans tonight."
"It seems rather dangerous to hike that far in the middle of the night, Astoria," Ginevra said cautiously. "I don't think we should–"
"Oh, come now. You do dangerous things all the time. Just yesterday, I saw you scarf down three treacle tarts without any milk or pumpkin juice, and that was definitely some kind of choking hazard. Don't tell me you're backing out at the thought of a little exercise," Astoria complained. A secret smile curved at her lips, "Don't you want to fit into your robes after you birth your playboy spawn?"
"My what?"
"Your child," Astoria rolled her eyes. "Knowing Blaise, the kid's first words will probably be a chat up line."
Ginevra opened her mouth as if to shout more obscenities at her, but then abruptly closed it without a word. "Fine," She grudgingly bit out. "Let's go follow our friend to make sure she's not lost the plot."
"I knew you would come around." Astoria smiled. She turned towards the staircase, dashing up the steps two at a time, "Just let me go get my stalking heels."
Ginevra waited impatiently for her friend,–in sensible footwear, thank you very much –nearly sighing in relief when Astoria hopped down the steps, true to her word in strappy platform heels.
"You're ridiculous," Ginevra shook her head. "We're going hiking in the dark, not going to the Yule Ball."
"Don't complain, you're getting free babysitting."
"Might I remind you, the child isn't actually here yet," Ginevra spoke through clenched teeth, turning to wandlessly lock the door behind them as they made their way outside.
"I wasn't talking about babysitting the child," Astoria laughed, ignoring the annoyed glance she received from her friend in return. She bounded down the villa's steps, somehow without turning an ankle in her high heels. "Hurry up, Gin, I can barely see her from here."
"We don't need to keep an eye on her, she already told us where she's going," Ginevra reminded her. She eyed the very large hill ahead of them and swallowed hard. "Are we sure we want to do this instead of going to bed?"
"Are you asking me to turn down an adventure?" Astoria looked practically offended by the mere notion and she shook her head. "Don't worry it doesn't look like that difficult of a hike."
She was wrong. It was an absolutely torturous hike, and by the time they even neared the top steps, Ginevra already resented her best friend and contemplated pushing her off this very cliff.
"See?" Astoria panted, wiping away a bead of sweat that clung to her perfectly sculpted brow once they had reached the top. "That wasn't so bad."
Ginevra shot her an angry look. "I can't feel my legs."
"That's an odd symptom," Astoria frowned. "I don't remember reading that in any of the baby books."
"It's not because I'm pregnant, you bint. It's because you insisted we hike up a mountain just to spy on our friend!"
"Sshh," Astoria nudged her side, "She'll hear us." The dark-haired witch shifted closer to the top step and slowly raised her head to peer over the clearing. Her eyes widened and she whispered, "Uh, Gin. I think you should take a look at this."
Ginevra grumbled under her breath but shifted slightly to peer over the top step to the hill, her breath nearly catching in her throat at the sight. To her horror, there were piles of dirt surrounding the otherwise beautiful gravesite, and Ginevra felt her stomach twist uncomfortably as she saw Destiny continue to dig under the giant marble headstone.
"What the bloody hell is she doing?" Ginevra hissed as she watched their friend dig up Blaise's grave.
"Obviously not landscaping," Astoria breathed. She winced when Ginevra hit her shoulder in response. "Well, what do we do? She's clearly gone mad. Why else would she dig up Zabini's grave?"
"What is she doing?" Ginevra repeated, clearly horrified by the scene as she watched Destiny levitate the simple black coffin out of the ground. "I think I might be sick," She choked out.
"I thought morning sickness only took place in the morning?"
"Was that supposed to be a joke?"
"Sorry," Astoria grumbled under her breath. "Thought I'd lighten the mood from whatever the bloody hell is happening right now." She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Well, do we stop her?"
Ginevra noticed Destiny pull something from her sleeve and her eyes narrowed at the small vial. Her feet moved of their own accord, and suddenly she shoved their friend away with a shout, "No!"
Destiny stumbled back a few steps, nearly dropping the vial in her hands. "Ginevra?" She blinked, though her features slowly gave way to irritation. "Didn't I say not to follow me?"
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Ginevra demanded instead. She raised her head towards the vial, "And what is that? Leave him alone!"
"Ginevra," Destiny held her hands up cautiously. "I need you to trust me right now. I don't have the time to explain what I'm doing." She turned back to face the coffin, wandlessly unlatching the top lid.
For a second, Ginevra wasn't sure what she was expecting. A part of her ached to see Blaise still somehow alive and well, but she knew after nearly two months, that wasn't a possibility, even with their stasis charm. Still, she held her breath as Destiny shoved open the lid and brandished the vial at her side. Something like alarm bells rang in her mind as she watched Destiny pull out the cork.
"Destiny, you need to step away from him." Ginevra spoke cautiously, eyeing the vial in the other witch's hand. "I don't know what is going on with you, but you need to get away from Blaise."
"Stand aside, Ginevra."
"Get away from him!"
Destiny whirled around to face her and her usually kind eyes flashed with anger. "I said stand aside, Ginevra." Destiny spoke sternly, as though she were chastising a child. "I won't repeat myself. Don't make me restrain you."
There was a sharp cry from the side as Astoria threw herself at the blonde witch, accidentally knocking the vial out of her hands in an attempt to push her back. Almost immediately, the grass and any sign of life under their feet burnt to a crisp, turning the entire patch of land they stood on into charred remains.
"What the bloody fuck was in that?" Astoria gasped, alternating between staring at the open coffin and the burned ground with her jaw nearly unhinged.
"What did you do?" Destiny hissed. She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath, "Don't you understand? I have to do this. It has to be done." A ghost of a smile appeared at her lips, "It's my duty. I feel it. It's here. We were all so shaken by his passing, we didn't even realize–but I know it's here. He's here. I can feel it."
"I don't know what's wrong with her. She's babbling all sorts of nonsense," Ginevra whispered harshly. She was just about to take another step towards Destiny when suddenly the witch's wand glowed a bright orange and a stream of fire burst from the tip.
"Great, now she's trying to set things on fire," Ginevra rolled her eyes. "Merlin, she's truly gone mad, hasn't she?" She shook her head, moving to approach Destiny when suddenly Astoria's hand curled around her wrist in a deathly tight grip, stopping her in her tracks.
"That's not fire, Gin," Astoria breathed, her eyes glinting with undeniable fear. "It's fiendfyre."
Ginevra froze, staring back at the fanged beasts screaming from the flames, transforming every few seconds into every terrifying creature imaginable. She could feel the heat from the flames distantly against her skin and she tensed.
"We have to get out of here," Astoria pulled her to the side, serious for once in her life. "Fiendfyre is difficult to control by even the strongest wielder, let alone one that's lost half her mind."
"We can't apparate on this property," Ginevra reminded her. "We'd have to run all the way down–that is, if the flames don't swallow this entire hill before that."
Astoria nodded absentmindedly as she scanned the lush rolling hills around them. A calculating glint came into her eyes, and she glanced at Ginevra abruptly. "Do you trust me, Gin?"
"Not particularly, no," Ginevra replied in all honesty. When she received a glower from her friend, she pursed her lips. "Fine, I trust you. What stupid thing do you want us to do next?"
Astoria glanced over her shoulder at the crashing waves below. "Fancy a swim?"
The red-haired witch followed her gaze and her eyes immediately widened. "No, no, no," She chanted, shaking her head. "Absolutely not, Astoria. I'm pregnant, for Merlin's sake! I can't jump off a bloody cliff! Are you insane?"
"Do you want to take your chances with the fiendfyre?" Astoria demanded. "I'll cast a dozen cushioning charms on you, but I'm afraid the fastest way out of here is quite literally down."
"I can't–" A flicker of pure terror flashed across her face as she let out a heavy breath, "Astoria, I can't–"
"You can, and you will." Astoria began to wave her wand, ensuring she was properly wrapped from head to toe in cushioning charms. "I even cast an extra spell to repel rocks and sharks. You'll be fine, Ginevra. Trust me." She glanced fearfully at the bright flames behind her that had swallowed the coffin whole, sending a ghastly puff of dark smoke into the sky.
Ginevra shuffled near the edge of the cliff nervously, looking back at her shoulder at the quickly growing flames. A heavy sense of loss settled in her stomach at seeing the burned coffin and she swallowed hard before turning back to face the water. She felt Astoria stand beside her and she turned to look at her friend, "What about you?"
"Right behind you," Astoria promised. She held her breath, "You need to jump, Gin. It's the only chance we have, don't you understand?"
Ginevra nodded shakily, facing the water once more. Astoria began to cast the cushioning charms on herself, and Ginevra held her breath as she counted to three in her head and jumped.
Astoria glanced at the empty space where her friend had stood for a moment, waiting until
she heard the splash in the water below before letting out a sigh of relief. She waved her wand over herself, continuing to cast the slew of cushioning charms when she heard a dark voice whisper in her ear:
Of course, you would abandon a friend in her greatest moment of need.
You would truly leave Destiny out here to die?
Astoria Greengrass is a friend to no one. Never anyone of importance. Never the first choice.
Her jaw clenched into a hard line, and she abruptly turned on the spot, facing the blistering fire that seemed to consume everything it touched. "Destiny," She shouted, unsure if the other witch was even of sound mind to hear her words, "You need to control the flames. You need to trap them back into the hell you summoned them from. Did you try the counter spell?"
"I-I can't," Destiny cried out, "It's too strong. I can't hold it much longer–it's like the flames have a mind of their own."
Astoria let out a deep breath, working quickly to cast as many cushioning charms as she could over the blonde witch from a safe distance away. "Listen to me, Destiny. I need you to just drop your wand and jump into the sea below. If you can't control the flames, you need to outrun them. You need to get as far away from them as you can."
"I –I don't know if that will work."
"Well, you have to try." Astoria retorted. "I'm going to count to three, do you understand? When I say three, I need you to drop the wand and jump, Destiny." She closed her eyes and whispered, "Ready? One."
Destiny's eyes widened with fear, "Astoria–I–"
"Don't think, just do it," Astoria insisted. "Two."
"But I–"
"Too late, three." Astoria watched with a slightly awed smile as Destiny dropped the wand, managing to make it a few feet away before she jumped almost headfirst into the dark sea below.
Unfortunately, the heat from the flames didn't leave her much time to admire, and she quickly finished the dozen cushioning charms around herself before turning back to face the sea. A glimmer of panic bled into her skin as she peered into the seemingly dark abyss, unable to spot any sign of her friends.
"Ginevra?" She called out hesitantly. "Destiny?"
There was a long pause before Destiny finally felt her head break through the surface of the water, and she leaned back to shout, "Astoria! It worked! You have to jump!" Her nose stung with saltwater and her lungs burned, but she managed to call out to her friend again. "Astoria!"
"I'm coming!" Astoria shouted back, taking a slight step back before lunging forward.
It was the screams that did it. Even a decade later, Destiny would wake up at night, hearing the bloodcurdling shriek as the flames wrapped around Astoria's throat, yanking her back into the fire as she tried in vain to claw her way out. The sound of her cries rang through the air even when the fiendfyre had eventually subsided, finally satisfied after claiming a victim at last.
