ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜ sᴇᴛ ɪɴ sᴛᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏɴɪɴᴇ ↬↣↫ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴀᴍᴇ

⋄⋄⋅⋅✺⋆⋄•☽❁☙❁♥︎❁❧❁☾•⋄⋆✺⋅⋅⋄
*Yes, I am going to use the fact that I can't put gif's here to my advantage and write some random ass comment instead.*
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⋯℘☠︎❧♥︎☙☠︎℘⋯
❝it was late at night, you held on tight
From an empty seat, a flash of light.
It will take a while, to make you smile
But somewhere in these eyes,
I'm on your side.❞
⋯℘☠︎❧♥︎☙☠︎℘⋯
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OLIVE SAT IN Dumbledore's office with her hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair. She felt uncomfortable. Not because of the cold chair, but because of the fact that he had called for a meeting. Probably about something she'd rather not talk about. She just wanted to take it easy for a while. Maybe just for a day or two. Instead, she was in his office, the air thick with tension and the usual twinkle in the headmaster's eyes was noticeably absent.

Dumbledore's expression was uncharacteristically grim as he studied her. He spoke first, his voice was quiet yet firm. "How many are left?"

What a great conversation starter, she thought. "Two," the girl replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if weighing her answer. "Good," he said, though his tone lacked warmth. "And when will you be able to destroy them?"

Olive swallowed, feeling extremely self-conscious under his stare. "Soon. I hope."

He didn't react the way she had hoped. Dumbledore's lips pressed into a thin line, and his voice grew more pointed. "I need facts, Ms. Evans, not hope."

Her stomach twisted. She knew he wasn't being harsh to be cruel. His tone could even be mistaken as gentle. But the stakes were too high for uncertainty and she knew that. "I know where they are," she said, her voice stronger now. "It's only a matter of getting to them."

Dumbledore nodded, but his expression remained conflicted. He tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, deep in thought. "The longer we wait, the more dangerous he becomes. The more people he manipulates," he murmured, more to himself than to her. After a moment, he sighed and leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. "Time is not on our side, Olive."

"Has something happened, Professor?" She asked, her curiosity peaking. She knew he had always been urgent about destroying the horcruxes, but something seemed different.

Dumbledore's eyes darkened, and he hesitated before responding, a rare moment of pause from him. "Yes," he said quietly, "A family of eight was brutally murdered exactly a week ago today. Wizards of three generations. . ." He said this very sombrely. "And I just got word that another similar killing took place yesterday evening. A recently married couple. Jean and Rhaul — wonderful people . . . Both incidents were marked by the Dark Mark in the sky."

The mention of the Dark Mark sent a chill down Olive's spine. Her mind flashed back to the night of her sister's attack and how the skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth was hovering ominously above the astronomy tower, cast by students who had now aligned themselves with evil. Her hands clenched on the armrest, her knuckles turning white. Avery. Rosier. Crouch.

Snape.

"It seems that the killings are becoming more frequent, more brazen. Voldemort's supporters are gaining confidence and he . . . is gaining numbers."

A surge of anger and helplessness rose inside Olive. The thought of more families, more innocent lives lost to honor a losing and disgusting cause. Blood purity. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. Olive had had a plan. She had conjured it up and it had worked thus far. . . however, things were spiraling out of control now. Everything was becoming too real and too big for her. "How do we stop them?"