Chapter 33 | 1998

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Maeve had been plagued with nightmares that hadn't touched her for nearly a year each night

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Maeve had been plagued with nightmares that hadn't touched her for nearly a year each night. She kept on reliving the moment she'd taken ahold of her mother's arms, the slithering fire, the Unbreakable Vow. After the disappearance of Anthony and his friends, more had scattered to the winds. Deep down, Maeve was terrified that they weren't in hiding, terrified that they were simply dead.

Her dreams always started with The Vow, then twisted to the deaths of her friends, her loved ones. She'd see the light leave Anthony's eyes at the hands of her father, Pansy mangled beneath Fenrir Greyback, her mother leaning over her with that black wand pointed at Maeve's chest.

"Maeve!" The high-pitched scream sent Maeve's head spinning as she jolted up.

The room was in chaos. Millicent, Pansy, and Daphne were in movement, all half-dressed. Maeve spiralled to a time, one year previous where she'd awoken to such a flurry and she nearly fainted. Her hands shook as she threw off her covers, and she wobbled to standing.

"We have to get to the Great Hall!" Millicent hissed as she threw a robe on over her sleeping clothes, "something's happened. We don't know what."

Pansy was already dressed in a pair of jeans and a black jumper, "Maeve! Hurry up! We need to get to the Great Hall."

Blinking rapidly, she followed her cousin's instruction. She'd fallen asleep in her clothes after a particularly late night at the library, so she pulled a dark sweater on to fend off the cold and grabbed her wand from her nightstand.

Cold dread solidified Maeve's insides as they rushed through the halls with streams of students. She feared the worst, but she wasn't entirely sure what the worst could be. Up until that moment, every time she'd thought things couldn't get worse they had.

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was deceivingly peaceful; dark and scattered with twinkling stars

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The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was deceivingly peaceful; dark and scattered with twinkling stars. Below it stood students, lining their house tables in various states of dress. Every eye was trained on Professor McGonagall, who was speaking at the raised platform at the end of the hall. Flanking her, was every professor excluding the Carrows and Headmaster Snape. There was also a ragtag team of wizards and witches. Maeve recognized some, but only vaguely. Remus Lupin, their old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher stood among them, along with a group of red-haired figures who could only be the entire Weasley clan.

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