HIDDEN REFLECTIONS

THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

LEAH'S POINT OF VIEW

There's only one word that can describe what's happening right now: chaos. It's thick, like smoke curling around every movement, clogging my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I'm standing on the edge of a war I'm not sure I understand, staring into a dream—or a nightmare—that doesn't seem real. The lines between reality and fear blur, the noise and spells and screams all folding into one relentless roar.

In the middle of it all, I see Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, casting spells with a kind of practiced desperation, trying to break through, trying to get to Hermione. Their movements are sharp, driven, like wild animals set on survival. They're here to save her and leave. That much, I know.

I blink, struggling to keep up, feeling as though I'm underwater, everything coming at me in muffled waves. My body aches with every breath, as if each inhalation has to pass through broken glass. A stray wand hits my palm, and I grip it weakly, feeling the slick wood slide between my trembling fingers. Then, a sharp, sickening laugh tears through the air—Bellatrix, holding Hermione close, her wand pressed to her throat. Her presence is like poison, oozing malice, savoring every second of Hermione's terror.

The room freezes, tense and still, and I try to gather myself, to find a spell, any spell, that might help. But my mind falters, slipping under the weight of the pain woven into every cell of my body. Each bruise and scar burns, every muscle screams. All I can do is breathe, each breath like a razor slicing through my chest, each heartbeat a fresh reminder of everything Bellatrix has done.

The creak of something swinging draws my attention upward. Dobby, perched precariously above, his tiny hands fumbling with the bolts of the chandelier. His eyes meet mine, wide and knowing, like he's the only one who understands. He's seen too much, that look says.

As if on cue, a door bursts open, and three familiar figures storm in: Mattheo, Enzo, and Theodore. I stare at them in shock, rooted in place, unable to process that they're really here. For a second, I think I might be hallucinating, that maybe I conjured them from my desperation.

Mattheo strides forward without hesitation, his voice cutting through the air, raw and unfiltered. "You said she left!" he spits at Bellatrix, as though he's incapable of caring who she is. His anger sears me, flaring up like an old wound. He wasn't there. He wasn't there when I needed him. And now he stands here, looking like I'm some precious thing he's finally found again.

Lucius blocks his path, pointing his wand at him, threatening, but Mattheo barely reacts. Bellatrix's lips curl into a grin, her voice dripping with mockery. "Maybe I left out a few details," she shrugs, tightening her hold on Hermione, the wand pressed tighter against her neck, reveling in our helplessness.

I can feel Enzo's gaze burning into me from across the room. When I finally meet his eyes, there's a darkness there, something that mirrors the hurt in mine. It's too much; I can't look at him. I turn away, and my vision goes jagged, all sharp angles and fragmented pieces.

Then, with a thunderous crash, the chandelier comes down, scattering glass and shards of crystal everywhere. The spell breaks, and in an instant, the room dissolves into chaos. Magic collides, colors flash, and I can hear curses sizzling through the air. I duck just in time, feeling the searing heat of a spell pass inches above me, its energy crackling as it dissipates.

"Leah!" Mattheo's voice slices through the noise, raw and desperate, pulling my attention back. I look up, and he's there, moving toward me with a hand outstretched, his expression pleading. My heart tightens, twisting in pain. Seeing him feels like opening an old wound, as though every scar Bellatrix left on my body is mirrored by one he's carved on my heart, the betrayal.