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

Chapter 83

Waiting.
Silence.

Sarah stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the exact spot where Harry had disappeared.
Perhaps she was waiting for a sign, a movement, something to confirm that it was over forever... or that at last it was time to rejoice.

Pansy approached slowly, holding a steaming cup in her hands.
"Take this, Madam Pomfrey says it's good for you."

Sarah shook her head. She didn't speak, didn't even shift her gaze.

Pansy sighed, brushed her arm gently with her fingertips, then stepped away.
"She can't... I think she's too shaken."

Mattheo nodded, speaking softly.
"Let her have time to process it. She needs a moment to be alone."

Tom sat beside him, and he couldn't stop staring at her.
He felt tiny in that moment. Inadequate.
He longed to say something to her, even just a word. But every gesture seemed useless, misplaced.
Sometimes, the only way to stand by someone is to leave them in their silence.
Let them feel, let them cry.

Sarah knew she was being watched, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered in that moment was seeing Harry come back. Alive.

Then, in the distance, on the bridge, she noticed something.
A shadow... one of those you would recognize anywhere.
She narrowed her eyes to see better.
Neville drew closer.
"What is it?"

The figure was approaching, and soon behind him all the Death Eaters began to appear.
"MOVE! EVERYONE OUT!" Sarah shouted, and without waiting for a response she ran toward the courtyard.

The Death Eaters advanced.
The courtyard filled in seconds, and the air split in two: on one side the light, on the other the darkness. But everyone's eyes were fixed on Hagrid, and especially on what he was carrying in his arms.

Voldemort opened his arms, his smile wide and unnatural.
"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!"

Ginny's piercing scream tore through the silence. Arthur held her back with difficulty.

"Harry Potter is dead... and from this day forth you will place your trust in me!" declared the Dark Lord, turning toward his followers. "HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!"

The Death Eaters began to laugh, shrill, inhuman voices.
"And now is the time to declare yourselves. Step forward. Join us... or die."

No one moved; all remained in reverent silence.

Lucius Malfoy stepped forward.
"Draco."

His eyes darted restlessly. Narcissa, instead, smiled at him, searching for his gaze.
The boy looked at his parents, tears blurring his vision.
He felt the weight of the choice: his mother, or what he truly wanted.

Then he moved. One step, then another.
He pushed through the crowd until he stopped right beside Sarah, in the front lines of the Resistance.
He said nothing but, to everyone's surprise, remained there.
Sarah took his hand, squeezing it tightly.
That was his answer,Draco had finally chosen.

And one by one, the other Slytherins stepped forward.
No words, no proclamations, but they showed clearly that they no longer belonged to the realm of darkness.

"Oh... it seems we already have our first victims," Voldemort hissed with sarcasm. "I would not have expected such an act of courage from you, Draco."

Draco swallowed. His heart pounded so loud it thundered in his ears, but he stood tall. He did not lower his gaze.
"I should have done it long ago."

A murmur rippled through the ranks of the rebels. Sarah, instead, tightened her grip on the boy's hand, joy bursting inside her.

Voldemort's face stiffened. Then slowly he turned toward Sarah.
"You." His voice was a hiss. "You should have died at Malfoy Manor. I should have finished you then."