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"You're free," Josephine finally forces herself to speak. She isn't sure how long they have been sitting in that room, both staring at Tom. "You can do whatever you want now."
Ara looks at her, her eyes blank and her face drawn. She takes a deep breath and flickers her gaze back to Tom.
Josephine forces herself to stand, fighting past the wave of dizziness and nausea. Merlin, she hates guilt—hates feeling this way. Hates how the last few days have become a blur of pain.
"Can you..." Josephine pauses, clearing her throat and wiping under her eyes. "Can you take me to where the other Death Eaters are?"
Ara glances away from Tom's body, raising an eyebrow in question, but she nods.
"Are Walburga and Orion Black here?" Josephine asks, her voice steadying into a cool, calm tone.
Ara nods once more.
"Take me to them," Josephine says. She can't bring herself to look at Tom.
Ara closes her eyes tightly for a moment before opening them, quickly turning to leave the room.
Josephine follows, forcing herself to focus on anything other than Tom's cooling body behind her.
Her breathing is unsteady, but she tries her best to calm it as Ara leads her through the halls, finally pausing in front of two doors.
Ara quickly undoes the spells on the doors, opening them to reveal a large group of people.
"Some escaped," Ara says coldly as both she and Josephine stare at the Death Eaters who face them as soon as the doors open. "Some simply weren't here."
That explains why the group is smaller than expected, only twenty in total.
Josephine's gaze sweeps over the room, her eyes landing on Walburga and Orion Black. They stand slightly apart from the others, their expressions guarded but defiant. Though, it seems Bellatrix Lestrange must have escaped.
"Bring them forward," Josephine commands, her voice unwavering despite the turmoil inside her.
Ara moves swiftly, her wand pointed at the couple as she directs them to the front of the room. They resist, but a flick of Ara's wand forces them to comply. The rest of the Death Eaters watch silently, a mix of fear and curiosity in their eyes.
Josephine steps closer, her eyes cold and determined. With a flick of her wrist, a piece of parchment and a quill appear, hovering in the air before Walburga and Orion. "You will confess to your crimes. Every single one. Start with what you did to your sons."
Walburga sneers, but Orion's face shows a flicker of uncertainty. Josephine's voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Now."
Orion reaches for the quill, his hand trembling slightly. Walburga hesitates, her eyes flashing with anger. "We will not," she spits.
