Fractures in the Dark
Chapter Three
The chill of the Forbidden Forest lingered long after they had returned to the castle. The group moved through the hallways in silence, the weight of the battle pressing down on them like a shroud. Each of them bore marks of the skirmish—scorch marks on robes, shallow cuts, bruises blooming beneath skin. But it was their eyes that told the true story: the weariness, the fire, and the flicker of something darker.
Harry was the first to speak once they reached the Room of Requirement. He turned to face the group, his jaw tight. “We weren’t ready.”
“What are you talking about?” Ginny snapped, stepping forward. “We won, didn’t we?”
Draco leaned against a wall, his arms crossed, his voice a low drawl. “She’s right, Potter. We sent them running. Seems pretty ‘ready’ to me.”
Harry’s green eyes flashed, and Draco stiffened. “We got lucky,” Harry shot back. “If there had been more of them, if they’d been better trained… someone could’ve died.”
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Hermione finally broke it, her voice quiet but firm. “He’s right. We’re stronger now, but we’re not invincible. We need to be smarter. We need to plan better.”
Fred and George exchanged a look, their usual mirth absent. Fred spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically grim. “So, what’s next, then? More training? More spells?”
Hermione hesitated, glancing at Harry. “It’s more than that. The bond we’ve created—it’s making us stronger, but it’s also… changing us.”
“What do you mean, ‘changing’?” Ron asked, his brow furrowing.
Hermione sighed, her fingers gripping the edge of the Magia Obscura. “The magic is binding us together in ways we didn’t fully understand. It’s not just making us stronger as individuals. It’s amplifying certain… traits. Desires. Emotions. That’s why we’re feeling things we shouldn’t be feeling. Why we’re…” She trailed off, looking uncharacteristically flustered.
Draco’s sharp laugh cut through the tension. “Oh, come off it, Granger. Are you suggesting the spell is making us… what? Fancy each other?”
Hermione’s silence was answer enough.
Blaise arched an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Ron, who quickly looked away. Theo’s journal closed with a soft snap, but he said nothing, his dark eyes darting to George. Ginny folded her arms across her chest, her face unreadable, though her clenched jaw betrayed her thoughts.
“Brilliant,” Draco muttered, pushing off the wall. “As if things weren’t complicated enough.”
Tensions Boil Over
That night, the group parted ways with little more than muttered goodnights. The bonds between them, once a source of strength, now felt like chains pulling in different directions.
In Gryffindor Tower, Harry sat by the fire, staring into the flickering flames. Ginny approached, sitting beside him.
“You’re shutting us out again,” she said softly, her voice tinged with frustration.
“I’m not,” Harry replied, though the words felt hollow even as he said them.
“You are,” Ginny insisted. “And I’m tired of pretending it’s not happening. I see the way you look at Malfoy.”
Harry’s head snapped toward her, his eyes wide. “Ginny, it’s not—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t know what this magic is doing to us, but I know how I feel. And I know how you feel, even if you won’t admit it.”
Harry had no answer, and the silence stretched between them until Ginny stood and walked away, her footsteps fading into the dormitory staircase.
In the Slytherin common room, Draco sat by the green-lit fire, his thoughts a tangled mess. Blaise dropped into the seat beside him, studying Draco’s profile.
“You’re thinking about Potter,” Blaise said bluntly.
Draco shot him a glare. “Mind your own business.”
Blaise smirked. “It’s hard not to notice. You’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one you get when you’ve decided to make a terrible decision.”
Draco didn’t reply, his fingers tightening around the glass in his hand.
A Hidden Enemy
The following morning, the tension between the group had scarcely eased when Hermione burst into the Great Hall, clutching a piece of parchment. She stopped short at the Gryffindor table, her face pale.
“What is it?” Harry asked, rising to his feet.
Hermione handed him the parchment. “It’s a message. From the Death Eaters. They know.”
Harry’s blood ran cold as he scanned the words, written in a sharp, spidery script:
We know what you’ve done. The shadows see all. You cannot escape what you’ve become.
The words shimmered faintly with magic, as though they were alive.
Fred leaned over Harry’s shoulder, his face grim. “How did they get this to you?”
Hermione shook her head. “It was on my bed this morning. No one saw who left it.”
Draco appeared at Harry’s side, his expression unreadable as he took the parchment. “They’re taunting us,” he said flatly. “Trying to scare us into making a mistake.”
“Or worse,” Blaise added, his gaze sharp. “They’re watching us. Someone inside Hogwarts is working with them.”
The realization settled over the group like a storm cloud.
“We need to find out who it is,” Harry said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. “And we need to stop them before they stop us.”
For the first time, their fragmented bond began to feel like an advantage. In the shadows of Hogwarts, where trust was scarce and danger was everywhere, they were more than a group. They were a weapon.
But as they moved deeper into the dark, none of them could ignore the question that lingered unspoken: Could they truly trust each other, or was the bond itself the greatest threat of all?