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

Chapter 81

The battle had begun.

The sound of footsteps on marble, the clash of spells, desperate screams and blasts exploding in the air merged into a deafening, unreal chaos. Sarah ran down the central corridor of Hogwarts, cloaks brushing against her arms as her classmates' shouts drowned in the tumult.

At every corner she caught glimpses of familiar faces among the countless students fighting with everything they had. The Death Eaters were undeniably more skilled, better prepared, and far more experienced.

"Protego!" she cried the moment she saw a spell hurled at her.
A Death Eater emerged from the mist, born of an explosion that had shattered part of a nave. The silver mask on his face glimmered in the light of the curses flying through the air.
He didn't speak. He was already aiming a strike.

But Sarah didn't give him the chance.
"Expelliarmus!"
The Death Eater deflected the spell with ease.
"Confringo!" he shouted, his voice hoarse.
The blast hurled her against the wall.
Her head smacked hard, her ears ringing as a sharp taste of blood rose in her throat.
Coughing, she forced herself back up, the wand still clenched tightly in her hand.

The man was already ready to strike again, but Sarah managed to gasp between coughs:
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The Death Eater stiffened, his wand still locked in his fingers, and collapsed sideways like a statue.
Sarah panted, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

At the end of the corridor, through smoke and flickering light, she spotted Dean and Seamus locked in a duel. A lethal green curse shot past her cheek by mere inches, scorching her skin.
"Neville!" she shouted, catching sight of him further ahead, battling two Death Eaters. She sprinted toward him, her heart hammering.

"Bombarda!"
An explosion erupted between her and the enemies, driving them back. Neville turned, giving her a weary smile.
"Perfect timing!"
"Always at the right moment!" she shot back, taking her place at his side. Their wands were raised, spells raining down from every direction.

A curse struck the ceiling above them. Chunks of stone and dust came crashing down. Sarah felt something cut into her arm, pain spreading sharper and sharper, but she pushed on.

All at once the floor shook, a dull rumble making them stagger; Sarah clapped her hands over her ears as the windows shattered, glass raining everywhere, and the night wind roared violently into the castle.

Neville turned to her, his face streaked with cuts and his cheeks blackened with soot.
"Let's move before more of them get here."
The boy ran to the right, while Sarah took a different path , wand clenched in her fingers.
Every step was a risk.
Every spell, a chance to die.
But this was their home.
And they would not abandon it.

Every corner was filled with smoke, thick and suffocating; screams grew ever closer, shards of debris creaked underfoot, and the acrid smell of blood hung in the air.
Sarah felt the urge to vomit, the stench was unbearable.
She rounded a corner running, and suddenly time seemed to slow.

A boy, Ravenclaw, maybe a fourth-year.
He lay on the ground, eyes wide and staring into nothingness. Motionless.
Dead.

Above him, a figure they knew all too well: Fenrir Greyback.
Bent over, bloodied, his face smeared, hands clawed. He didn't even seem human. He was a beast. A beast breathing heavily over a corpse.

Sarah froze completely, almost forgetting she was in the middle of a war.

Greyback turned and saw her.
He sniffed the air.
"Another one..." he hissed. His voice was hoarse, ravenous. "The little princess is back. I preferred it when you were quiet in your cage."