𝘋𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘐𝘌𝘋/𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 (English version)

Chapter 64

December 30th, 1997

The Slytherin common room was steeped in an unnatural silence.
The fire in the hearth burned dimly, offering no warmth, in fact, it made the room feel even colder, more unwelcoming.
The usual murmur of conversation, the hushed whispers, and the crackling of flames had all been replaced by a heavy, almost suffocating anticipation.

Blaise was tapping his fingers nervously on the armrest of the worn leather armchair, the faint ticking barely audible.
Theo sat next to him, eyes fixed on some indistinct spot on the floor, his brows furrowed in a pensive grimace.
Draco sat rigidly, fists clenched on his knees, his breathing measured. Enzo and Mattheo had positioned themselves near him, but they didn't speak. They were tense, eyes downcast, jaws tight.

Tom was the only one who seemed unbothered.
Seated with his chin resting on his knuckles, he stared into the fireplace with an unreadable expression, as though the tension in the room didn't touch him at all.

It was a lie, of course.

After a long silence, Blaise finally snapped, his voice low but strained.
"So? What the hell are we going to do?"
His gaze moved from one face to another, searching for an answer no one seemed willing to give.
"Time is running out. We need to show them something, some proof that we're actually doing what we were sent here to do."

Theo huffed, running a hand through his dark hair, messing it up in a nervous gesture.
"I thought we already discussed this. We wait."

"Wait?" Enzo echoed, letting out a dry, humorless laugh.
"Theo, we can't just ignore an order from the Dark Lord. He sent us here for a reason. And if he starts suspecting—"

"He already knows."
Tom's voice cut through the room like a blade.
Low. Sharp. Inevitable.

Draco looked up, studying him intently.
"What do you mean?"

Tom straightened, pulling away from the back of his chair and setting his eyes on him.
"Voldemort doesn't give orders without having already calculated every possible outcome," he said, his tone devoid of emotion.
"He sent us here not just because he wants information. He wants to test our loyalty. If he truly wanted answers, he'd have them by now. If he wanted Sarah, he would've taken her already. This is a power play, not a mission. He's testing us, like damn lab rats."

No one wanted to admit it, but Tom was right.

Draco was the first to speak, his voice rougher than usual.
"We won't betray her." He looked directly at Tom, then at the others. "Don't even think about it. Not for a second."

Enzo's leg bounced anxiously, a sign of stress Draco picked up on immediately.
"You're way too wound up, Berkshire."

Enzo scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm not stressed."
Then he hesitated, lips pressed into a tight line.
"I'm just starting to realize maybe we acted impulsively. Maybe we should've sat down and talked it through more."

The blond stood slowly, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.
"Maybe."
His voice lowered as he walked over to the window overlooking the Black Lake.
The dark water shifted just below the surface, reflecting the greenish glow of the common room.

"But if we chose to be here, if we chose to help her, it's because we knew it was the right thing to do."

He turned to face his friends, one by one.
"Let's not fall apart now. We need to act. Or we won't be the only ones paying the price."

No one spoke.

But they all understood.

Their families. Their lives. Their loyalty to Sarah came at a cost.