𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐆𝐎𝐅 𝟑𝟏

Wormtail shuffled toward Harry with a horrible eagerness, silver hand glinting under the moonlight. Harry twisted upright as best he could, breath ragged, ropes sawing deeper into his skin as he tried to brace himself.

Wormtail ripped the gag from Harry's mouth—

"Are you deaf? I said don't touch him!" Emily's scream cracked through the graveyard like lightning.

Harry whipped his head toward her, pain and fury burning in his eyes.
"Emily — you idiot!" he choked, voice raw. "What are you doing?"

He didn't mean to sound angry — he was terrified. Terrified of losing her.

Then — silence.

Voldemort stilled. The laughter died.

The Death Eaters shifted like shadows closing in, the ring tightening until Emily and Harry were trapped at the center of a suffocating nightmare.

Voldemort's snake-like gaze slid to Emily.
"Well... Lupin-Black," he purred. "You did join us tonight. I was beginning to think you'd run away. Again."

Emily's lungs burned with shallow, panicked breaths. She could feel her heartbeat in every wound, every trembling muscle.

"Don't hurt him," she whispered, voice barely holding itself upright.

"Oh, don't worry," Voldemort said softly — cruelly. "I wouldn't dream of killing the Boy Who Lived... not yet."

He stepped closer. Emily's legs screamed from the injury, but she refused to back away.

"I hear you can't use your powers," Voldemort taunted. "Is that true?"

Emily froze.
If she denied it — he'd test her and kill her.
If she admitted it — he'd kill her out of boredom.
There was no right answer — only death wearing different masks.

Voldemort smiled as if he could taste her fear.
"It's true, then. How disappointing. They whispered you would be my equal... your uncle Regulus served me well. But you..." He leaned in. "You are nothing but a helpless girl who never learned her worth."

Emily swallowed, throat burning. Helpless. Worthless. The words stabbed deeper than any spell.

"But don't worry." Voldemort smiled wide — jagged teeth gleaming.
"I will make the world remember you. The girl I killed with my own hand."

Steel flashed.

Emily barely gasped before white-hot pain tore across her stomach. A second slash followed — faster — deeper. Blood spilled warm and slick through her fingers as she instinctively tried to hold herself together.

Her vision blurred.
Her knees buckled.
But she didn't look at Voldemort.
She looked at Harry.

His eyes were wide with horror — begging her to move, to run, to do something.
She wished she could tell him she was sorry she had dragged him into this.
Sorry she wasn't strong enough.

"STOP IT! Stop — don't touch her! Lucius — PLEASE!" Harry's voice shattered, breaking open something in the air.

Emily's gaze flickered to Lucius. Her uncle. His mask still on — his silence a death sentence.

Voldemort hummed in approval.
"A loyal coward is still loyal, I suppose."

The blade found her again — a savage slice down her arm.

Emily fell, a strangled cry tearing from her throat. The world spun. Cold earth met her palms, now slick with blood. She tasted iron and dirt.

"Ha...Harry..." she gasped, choking on crimson. His name felt like a last prayer.