HIDDEN REFLECTIONS

THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I hurry up the astronomy tower, the last place I can think of to find Theodore. I've already checked all his usual hangouts, but this tower had been nagging at me since I started searching two hours ago. Before I started looking, I had changed out of my wet clothes. Hypothermia wouldn't help me find him.

Now, almost at the top, someone stops me.

"You can't be here," Theodore says, gripping my shoulders with a desperation that speaks of worlds teetering on the edge of collapse.

"Yes, I can," I counter, my voice firm with the resolve that brought me here.

He pushes me toward the doorway, his eyes darting around like those of a hunted animal. "I'm not joking, you need to leave," he says, his voice a strained whisper, taut with urgency.

"I'm not leaving until you let me see my brother. I know he's that damn cat you always have with you," I assert, my confidence unwavering.

His eyes never meet mine, always shifting, searching. "Damn it, Leah, you can't be here," he nearly shouts, shoving me once more until I stumble backward.

I lose my footing and crash to the floor, the level beneath the tower's opening catching me. I cough, the impact rattling through my bones, blinking dust from my eyes.

Voices surround me as the haze clears. Harry's face comes into focus, concern etched into his features. I open my mouth to speak, but he quickly shakes his head, glancing between me and the gap above us. Déjà vu grips me, reminding me of yesterday, a cold shiver prickling my skin. An ominous certainty settles over me; I am about to witness something dreadful.

I freeze, my gaze following Harry's to see Theodore up there with Dumbledore. But they are not alone. Draco's wand is pointed at Dumbledore. Theodore stands behind, battered and bruised, with Mattheo by his side. Enzo lingers in the shadows, a ghostly presence at the back.

Harry's hand on my arm pulls me from my stupor, guiding me to a better hiding spot, though my body feels like stone.

"I don't want to do this," I hear Draco say, his voice cracked. He turns to Mattheo, "You should be the one doing this, not me."

Bellatrix's chilling laughter echoes, freezing my blood. Her presence, a dark specter, does nothing to soothe my mounting dread. I tell myself they can't see us; our vantage point is concealed.

The tower becomes a crucible, the air thick with foreboding. My heart pounds, a frantic drumbeat in the silence. As I crouch beside Harry, hidden in the shadows, I know we are on the precipice of something catastrophic; something horrible is going to happen.

I'm uncertain of the words that are traded between them all, but I see clearly when Dumbledore falls over the ledge. I watch in silence as his life is taken away from him by Snape.

I remain rooted to the spot, as if the weight of the moment has turned me to stone, while Harry storms down the path, a force of nature in pursuit.

Suddenly, I snap back to reality, my limbs springing to life. I push myself up from the floor, my heart pounding, and race down the stairs. The crowd gathered outside blurs into an indistinct mass, their presence barely a whisper against the roar in my ears. My gaze is fixed ahead, drawn toward the forest where Draco's silver hair gleams like a beacon in the moonlight.

The tall grass whispers against my legs, and the branches reach out like skeletal fingers, clawing at my skin. The sharp sting of their scratches barely registers, not until the taste of bitter copper floods my mouth.