Weasley, Amora Adele. Molly and Arthur Weasley's gorgeous daughter, the youngest of the Weasley triplets, Fred and George. The redhead clan's first daughter. She is a prefect and the Captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, playing as a chaser.
K...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
“I’ll be here,”
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Amora's POV
We just left the triplets in the hands of Stefan and Daniela at Weasley Manor. And now- we apparated to Minnie and Poppy's quarters.
We have me, Vik, my whole family and their partners, teachers and staff, older students (from years 6-7 only). We also have a big ass team of Aurors all assigned from Madam Bones which we have about 50 of them. We also have hitman and hitwitches that are 20 combined. Then we have the Bulgarian team (13 not including Vik) and the Puddlemere United team (14). And we also have Aurors fighting coming from the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic which we got help from Stefan and they are around 50 as well. In total we are about- eh roughly perhaps 200-300 people on our side fighting not including magical creatures such as centaurs, house elves, giants, and etc. As of counted for the other side, the order had estimated about 200-400 members.
Otherwise- this is basically a bloodbath.
Half of the Bulgarian team as well as the other half of the Puddlemere United team will be going on air joining in other Hogwarts students, specifically those who are in quidditch. We also got alumni's from Hogwarts joining in, most coming from the batches of Oliver Wood and ours. Then the rest of the people will be fighting on the ground.
Even just two minutes since we arrived here. Death eaters have already spotted us and have tried cursing and shorting spells at us. But we managed to move away and quickly hid in a hidden alcove.
The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows, mocking the stillness in my heart. My simple black turtleneck felt like a shroud, the fine knit a suffocating reminder of the fragility of life. My wide-legged, light grey trousers, usually so comfortable, felt heavy, lead weights chaining me to this place of agonizing waiting. The thought of our three tiny newborns, our precious triplets, sleeping soundly just miles and miles away from us, intensified the fear coiling in my gut. Viktor knelt beside me, his usual boisterous energy extinguished, leaving only a quiet, heartbreaking solemnity. His black puffer jacket, usually a symbol of his carefree spirit, looked rumpled and stained, a testament to the brutal reality we faced. The contrast between his casual attire – the black hoodie peeking from beneath the jacket, the lighter grey of his cargo pants – and my more formal outfit felt like a chasm, a stark representation of our diverging paths.
