War, Love, and Riddle //Mattheo Riddle x OC

Chapter Twenty Seven - Always

Emma had barely pushed herself to her feet when a crushing pressure slammed into her mind.

The pain was immediate and overwhelming, stealing the breath from her lungs so completely that she staggered sideways. Around her, Harry doubled over with a sharp gasp while witches and wizards throughout the corridor cried out in alarm. Several people clutched their heads. Others dropped their wands entirely as though the force of it had knocked the strength from their fingers.

Then Voldemort's voice filled the castle.

Not spoken.

Forced.

The sound echoed through her thoughts with the same invasive certainty she had felt inside the connection for months, slithering into every corner of her mind until it became impossible to escape.

"You have fought valiantly..."

The words reverberated through stone walls and ancient corridors alike.

Emma could feel Hogwarts listening.

Every student.

Every professor.

Every wounded survivor still breathing somewhere inside the castle.

"But in vain."

His voice remained calm.

Almost gentle.

That somehow made it worse.

"I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste."

Emma's stomach twisted.

The hypocrisy of it was enough to make her feel sick.

Outside, battle still raged. She could hear distant spells cracking through the night. Somewhere inside the castle people were bleeding. People were grieving. People were fighting for one more hour, one more minute, one more breath.

And Voldemort dared speak of waste.

She felt Mattheo move closer beside her. His hand found hers instantly, fingers intertwining with such force it almost hurt. The pressure grounded her just enough to keep standing while Voldemort's voice continued to pour through the castle.

"I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

Dead.

The word dead seemed to linger long after Voldemort had spoken it.

Emma felt it settle somewhere deep inside her chest, heavy and cold, like a stone sinking beneath dark water. She didn't know who had fallen. Didn't know which faces she would find when she returned to Hogwarts. Yet the dread arrived all the same, wrapping itself around her ribs and squeezing tighter with every passing second. The battle had been raging for hours. Friends had been separated. Families torn apart. Somewhere inside the castle people were already mourning, and the terrible part was knowing she would eventually have to put names to the grief waiting for them.

Before she could dwell on the thought, Voldemort's voice shifted.

The change was subtle enough that most people might have missed it, but Emma felt it immediately. The same instinctive awareness she felt whenever danger turned in her direction suddenly came alive beneath her skin. It was the sensation of standing alone in a forest and realizing the predator had finally found you. Every muscle in her body tightened.

"Harry and Emma Potter..."

Her breath caught.

Beside her, Harry went completely still.