Poisoned love || Hermione Granger

As we dash across the wooden bridge, my excitement peaks when I spot two familiar figures ahead. "Harry and Hermione!" I call out, my voice echoing for all to hear.

As we come to a halt, Hermione directs her question to Ginny. "How did you manage to escape?"

"Dust bombs, it wasn't pretty," Ginny confesses with a wince, then glances my way.

"I suspect it was your ingenious plan," Hermione remarks, a gentle smile playing on her lips coming my way.

Ron returns their wands, but my gaze remains fixed on Hermione until Harry's voice interrupts my reverie.

"I appreciate everything you've all done, truly," Harry begins, striding past us, prompting us all to turn and watch.

"But I've dragged you into enough trouble as it is," he continues, his tone heavy with resignation.

Neville interjects, his voice tinged with frustration: "I thought Dumbledore's Army stood for action, not just words. Or was it all just empty promises?"

Harry halts, pivots, and meets our collective gaze.

"You don't have to face it alone, Harry," Neville asserts earnestly. "This year, I've learned that no matter what challenges life throws your way, having people by your side makes all the difference. Look at me—I used to be miserable, but now, everything has changed."

Harry glances at each of us briefly before addressing the group, "How do we get to London?"

A smirk plays across my lips as I turn to Luna, knowing she'll have a whimsical solution.

"We fly, of course," Luna responds with a smile.

Following Luna's lead, we mount Thestrals, magnificent creatures visible only to those who have seen and comprehended death. Together, we soar to the Ministry and rush inside.

"I know the way, follow me!" I assert, taking the lead.

As we dash down the corridor, we eventually reach an elevator. Impatiently, I press the button, waiting for the doors to open. When they finally do, we're faced with a narrow hallway culminating in a solitary blue door at its end.

Silently, we traverse the Hall of Mysteries, illuminated by the glow of our wands. Harry strides ahead, his movements purposeful, muttering numbers and scanning the surroundings.

"He should be here," his voice reverberates through the chamber.

Neville's voice breaks the tension as he points to a peculiar ball, his gaze fixed on Harry. "Harry, look, it's got your name on it."

Harry approaches the ball cautiously, his expression shifting to one of terror as he takes it in his hands, examining it closely, as if ensnared in a trance. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone advancing towards us. My heart sinks, the color draining from my face, and Hermione senses my distress, moving closer.

"Are you okay?" she asks, concern etched in her voice.

Unable to form words, I simply gesture towards the approaching figure, prompting Hermione to follow my gaze.

"Harry," she whispers.

Harry turns to face us, his attention drawn to the masked individual steadily approaching.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry demands, his voice edged with urgency.

The figure pauses, reaching for his wand, before slowly removing the mask to reveal none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"You really should learn to distinguish between dreams and reality," Malfoy taunts, sending a chill through us all as we instinctively take a step back, our breaths coming quicker, the tension thick in the air.