xv ; visions and violence

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"Once you've been hurt by someone you loved and trusted with your life, your whole life feels like a lie

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"Once you've been hurt by someone you loved and trusted with your life, your whole life feels like a lie."

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The Gryffindor common room was quiet that evening, the cozy glow of the fireplace casting soft shadows across the room. Harry, Ron, and Jupiter sat clustered around a table, each lost in their own thoughts, when Hermione approached them, her expression tight as she held a crumpled letter in her hand.

"Hagrid's just sent me this," she said quietly, the tension in her voice pulling their attention.

She handed the letter over, and Harry unfolded it to read:

"Dear Hermione,

Bucky's execution date has been fixed. Thanks for all your help.

Hagrid."

It was hard to read through the smudged ink, marred by tear stains that had bled into the paper.

"They can't do this," Harry muttered, his fingers curling around the letter. "Buckbeak isn't dangerous."

"But Lucius Malfoy can do whatever he wants," Jupiter sighed, crossing her arms. "The Ministry is terrified of him. When it comes to my uncle, they don't have much respect for ethics." Her voice held a bitter edge as she gazed into the flames, eyes darkening.

"There'll be an appeal though," Hermione murmured, though her voice was hollow. "There always is... But I don't imagine it will do anything." She dropped her gaze to the floor, defeated. "Nothing will ever change."

"Yeah, it will," Ron said, standing up from the sofa with unexpected resolve. "You won't have to do all the work alone, Hermione. I'll help."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione choked out, and before anyone could blink, she flung her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. Ron's face flushed a brilliant shade of red, and he patted her back with an awkward, stiff hand.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Oh, well, he was old," Ron said with a shrug as Hermione pulled back. "And a bit useless, honestly. Who knows—Mum and Dad might even get me an owl now."

A few days later, after Care of Magical Creatures, they walked up the castle steps with Hagrid, who looked utterly dejected. He moved like a man with a weight on his back, eyes cast down, wringing a handkerchief between his hands.

"S'no good, Ron," he sighed. "That committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had... I owe him that."

And with that, Hagrid turned and walked back toward his cabin, his huge shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his handkerchief.

"Look at him blubber!"

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