Things that never came out.

Chapter 32:- Shades of Grey

Rose's POV

The room felt like it was spinning, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Harry's gun wavered slightly in his hand as the shock of what I'd just revealed seemed to slam into him like a physical force.

His eyes darted between me and George, searching for some semblance of truth amidst the chaos that had just been unleashed.

"George... you used me?" Harry's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the disbelief was palpable.

His whole body seemed to sag, the weight of betrayal crashing down on him as his gaze locked onto George, the man who had been a mentor, a guide-a father figure of sorts.

George didn't flinch, didn't even blink. Instead, he shrugged with a casual nonchalance that was more chilling than any show of anger or guilt.
"So what if I did?" His voice was smooth, almost mocking.
"Don't act so innocent, Harry. You're anything but. You've been playing a game just like the rest of us."

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as I watched the exchange. George was a master manipulator, his words slicing through the tension like a razor.

He was twisting the knife, deepening Harry's wound, turning his confusion into something darker, something more dangerous.

Harry's face twisted with a mixture of emotions-confusion, anger, betrayal. It was all there, laid bare for us to see.

His hand still gripped the gun, but the conviction behind it had faltered. The certainty with which he had pointed it at Alestor was crumbling.

I glanced at Alestor, who stood rigid, his gaze never leaving Harry. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles coiled, ready to spring into action if things went south.

But there was something else in his eyes too-an understanding, a recognition of the pain Harry was going through. Alestor had seen it all before.

He had been where Harry was now, standing at the precipice of despair, teetering on the edge of losing himself completely.

George's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
"You're no innocent, Harry. Don't fool yourself. Every choice you made, every action you took, it was all you. I may have given you the tools, but you were the one who used them."

Harry's grip tightened on the gun, his knuckles turning white as his eyes narrowed at George.
"You... you made me believe that I was doing the right thing. That I was... avenging my father."

"And you were," George said, his tone almost soothing now, like a parent comforting a child.
"But you did it for yourself, Harry. For your own peace of mind. Don't pretend like you were some innocent pawn. You wanted this as much as I did."

I could see the conflict raging within Harry, his mind battling between the loyalty he had once felt for George and the crushing realization that he had been nothing more than a tool, a weapon forged in George's hands.

The gun in his hand wavered again, his resolve cracking under the weight of the truth.

Alestor and I exchanged a brief glance, a silent understanding passing between us. We had to tread carefully.

One wrong move could push Harry over the edge, and none of us would walk out of this room alive.

Then, as if sensing the shift in the air, George turned his attention to me, his eyes gleaming with a malevolent cunning that sent a chill down my spine.
"And you, Rose," he began, his voice dripping with false concern. "You think Harry's the only one who's been played here? You're just as much a part of this game as he is."