The dust hadn't fully settled when the reality of their situation hit Harry like a tidal wave. The room, once filled with Bellatrix's shrill laughter and the stench of blood, was now silent, save for the steady breathing of those who had fought and survived. But Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't over not by a long shot.

Sirius, standing at his side, seemed to have sensed it too. His eyes never strayed too far from the door as he helped Harry sit up, the motion careful, deliberate. His movements were shaky, but the defiance in his eyes remained undiminished.

"They'll be here soon," Sirius said quietly, his voice low but filled with certainty. "We'll get you out of here. Don't worry."

Harry nodded weakly, unable to fully comprehend what was happening around him. His mind was still struggling to catch up with the series of events that had transpired in the last few hours. He had been rescued, yes, but Bellatrix's words had left an indelible mark. This isn't over... The thought replayed in his mind over and over, and the pit in his stomach deepened.

Across the room, the Order was already working. Tonks and Remus were standing watch by the door, their wands raised in case anyone tried to come for them. Kingsley was talking with the other members, issuing instructions, preparing for their next move. The tension was thick, palpable. It wasn't just the threat of Bellatrix that weighed on everyone's minds it was the realization that this war wasn't anywhere near its end.

Harry's eyes darted to the far corner of the room, where Neville and Frank were standing, their faces grim. Neville was clenching his fists, his knuckles white, while Frank had his arm around his son, trying to offer a sense of reassurance.

But it wasn't working. The weight of what had happened was too much.

Harry could feel the exhaustion sinking deeper into his bones. His whole body ached, but it wasn't just from the physical injuries. It was from the toll the war had taken on him, on everyone. The constant battles, the never-ending threats it was a cycle he didn't know how to escape.

Sirius knelt beside him, his eyes dark and full of concern. "You're still with us, right, kiddo?"

Harry gave a faint nod, though his voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah… I'm just tired."

Sirius' gaze softened. "You've been through hell, Harry. But you're stronger than this. I know it."

Before Harry could respond, there was a loud bang from the hallway outside, and the door flew open. Remus's hand shot up, signaling for everyone to be on alert. Kingsley's wand was already drawn as a figure appeared in the doorway his tall frame casting a long shadow into the room.

It was Snape.

The tension in the room spiked immediately, and Harry felt his heart skip. He hadn't seen Snape since his capture, and the sight of him still sent a chill down his spine. But this time, there was something different in Snape's expression. He wasn't there to cause trouble; there was a sharp urgency to him, a sense of purpose that Harry hadn't expected.

"Get him up," Snape said in his usual icy tone, eyes locking with Harry's. "We're leaving."

Sirius stood immediately, looking like he was about to argue, but Snape cut him off. "Now, Black. Before we're discovered."

Harry felt a strange surge of distrust, but the urgency in Snape's voice outweighed it. There wasn't time for questions. Not now. Not when Bellatrix was still out there, hunting them all down.

Without another word, Sirius helped Harry to his feet, supporting him as they moved toward the door. The rest of the Order followed close behind, with Remus and Tonks keeping a watchful eye on the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse.

Snape glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze hard. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere you won't be found. You'll understand when we get there."

As they moved down the corridor, Harry's mind raced. He had no idea where Snape was taking them, or why Snape had suddenly decided to help, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of this hellhole.

The halls of the manor seemed eerily silent, the walls whispering with secrets Harry didn't want to know. His thoughts turned back to Bellatrix and her warning. They had won the battle, yes, but the war was far from over. There was no place safe anymore.

They reached a large, nondescript door at the end of a narrow passage. Snape stepped forward and muttered a quick incantation under his breath, the door swinging open with a creak. The group filed in quickly, and Harry's breath hitched when he saw where they had arrived.

It was a small, dimly lit room, filled with bookshelves, and the air smelled faintly of old parchment. There were no windows, only a few sconces to light the room. The only exit was a narrow staircase leading further down into darkness.

Harry didn't have time to take it all in, though, because Snape was already speaking again. "You'll stay here for the time being. It's not much, but it will keep you hidden. The wards are strong, and they'll keep any Death Eaters from tracking you."

Sirius looked at Snape suspiciously but said nothing. Harry, too, was wary. He didn't trust Snape, but right now, he didn't have many other options.

"Stay out of sight," Snape continued, "and don't make a sound. We'll figure out what's next once we have a moment to breathe."

As Snape turned to leave, Harry caught his eye for a brief moment. There was something strange in Snape's expression, something unreadable. Was there guilt there? Or was it something else? Harry wasn't sure, but in that moment, Snape looked more human than Harry had ever seen him before.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he realized how fragile their position really was.

They were safe for now. But how long would it last?

Meanwhile...

Frank Longbottom sat at a small table, his hands clenched tightly around his mug of tea. He had never felt so useless, so uncertain. Everything he'd known had shifted in the last few hours. His mind was still clouded, still catching up with reality, but one thing was clear Bellatrix was coming, and she would stop at nothing to finish what she'd started.

His son, Neville, sat across from him, his face pale but resolute. The weight of the moment was too much for them both, but they would stand together.

"We can't let them take him," Frank muttered, his voice thick with conviction. "Not again."

Neville nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the floor. "We won't. I swear it, Dad."

The battle wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.