Katie.

I didn't see her move.

One second Adrien was swaying beside me, barely conscious—the next, she was lunging through the chaos.

Straight into the dirt devil. Straight into him.

"No—Adrien!" I screamed, moving after her.

Ron's arm shot out across my chest. Lupin grabbed my shoulder with the other.

"Let me go!" I yelled, struggling, pushing, clawing against their grips. "She'll die in there—she can't—"

But she was already in it.

Torn papers and wind and magic lashed around her like blades. Her hair whipped violently in every direction. Her knees hit the marble floor in a crack I felt in my ribs.

And then she was still.

Kneeling before Harry.

And placing her hands on his chest.

"Adrien!" I sobbed, panic clawing up my throat. "What are you doing?!"

Ron was whispering a prayer. Lupin's face had gone white.

Because we all heard it now.

Harry's lips moved—but the voice that came out wasn't his.

It was his.

Voldemort.

I couldn't breathe.

Adrien's body trembled, head bowed forward as if the weight of the voice—of him—was too much to bear.

She didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

She just closed her eyes... and pressed down.

Hard.

A glow flared between her palms. Gold and scarlet—flickering like a dying star. The wind screamed. Magic buckled and tore. Harry seized again—arched, howling.

And then—

Silence.

The storm snapped out of existence like a blown candle.

Harry's body dropped, gasping for breath.

And behind him, stepping out of thin air like he'd always been there—

Dumbledore.

He moved faster than I'd ever seen him, casting a shimmering ward with one hand, the other flinging a bolt of silver that hit something invisible—someone—and sent it shrieking into nothing.

The last shred of Voldemort's presence, torn from the room.

Harry blinked slowly, still gasping, his body sagging forward—

But Adrien...

Adrien didn't move.

She dropped with him, folding like a puppet with cut strings.

Collapsed.

"NO—NO!" I ripped free from Ron's grip, hit the ground hard, and scrambled across the floor to her.

"Adrien!" I rolled her over, shaking her by the shoulders. "Hey—hey, come on, wake up, please—"

And that's when I saw it.

Blood. So much blood.

Seeping down the back of her neck, soaked into her hair, trailing down the collar of her shirt from where she'd hit the wall before—split open and never stopped bleeding.

"Oh my god—SOMEONE GET HELP!" I screamed, my voice cracked.

Ginny was already moving.

Luna dropped beside me, wand shaking.

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror. "She's—she's not—"

"She's breathing," Lupin cut in quickly, dropping to his knees beside me. His hands moved with practiced precision—tilting Adrien's head, fingers pressing to her neck. "But she's not okay. We need to move her. Now."

I reached for her hand, gripping it tight like I could anchor her with sheer will alone.

"I told you—" I whispered, tears falling fast, hot. "I told you... why didn't you wait?"

Behind us, Harry coughed—gasping—staggering to his feet as Dumbledore caught him by the shoulder.

"She saved me," he rasped, his voice thin and shaken. "I—I didn't know... I thought I could hold it, but I couldn't. He was in me—he was me—and then she—"

"She took the hit," I whispered. "Again."

Lupin nodded, his voice quiet as he conjured a stretcher with trembling hands. "She bought us time."

The room spun around me—but not from magic this time.

From grief. From fury.

From the truth that Adrien–fucking–Blakwood—stubborn, reckless, brilliant Adrien—had thrown herself between us and death one more time.

And this time?

I didn't know if she'd come back from it.

A ragged shuffle of footsteps came behind me—then a weak, broken voice.

"Katie—"

I turned and saw Sage, barely on her feet, staggering forward with Maddie limp and bloodied in her arms. Maddie's head lolled against Sage's shoulder, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused, lip split, skin gray.

"She okay?" Sage gasped, falling to her knees with Maddie, who collapsed beside Adrien like her body had finally given out. "Tell me she's okay."

"She's breathing," I said, voice cracking, "but I don't—she won't wake up."

Sage didn't reply. She reached out and gripped Adrien's wrist with blood-stained fingers. "Don't you dare," she whispered. "Don't you fucking dare leave us, Blackwood."

Maddie groaned faintly, eyelids fluttering as she reached toward Adrien's arm, fingers curling just enough to make contact. "Not... like this," she rasped. "Not after all that... she doesn't get to pull some noble martyr bullsh—"

Her voice gave out. Her body slumped sideways against me.

I caught her with one arm, holding her against my chest while keeping my other hand wrapped around Adrien's.

Lupin cast a stabilizing spell, hovering Adrien's body just off the floor. "We've got to get her to Hogwarts. Now."

"We go with her," I said without blinking.

He hesitated.

"We go with her." My voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "You're not separating us."

He nodded once. "Fine. Just don't let go."

Around us, Ministry medics had finally stormed in. Ron was lifting Maddie from the floor. Luna was guiding Sage, who was barely holding herself up anymore. Ginny stayed beside me as we moved, wand gripped tightly like she was still expecting the worst.

Harry sat across the room, dazed and silent in Dumbledore's shadow. He didn't speak. He just stared at Adrien's limp form like he wasn't sure if she'd saved him or damned herself to do it.

The scent of antiseptic and burning sage clung to the air.

I'd always hated this place.

Too quiet. Too white. Too much like loss.

Adrien hadn't moved since they floated her in—head bandaged, skin far too pale, lips cracked from whatever magic she'd burned through to pull Harry back from the brink. She looked like herself. And nothing like herself at all.

I hadn't left her side.

Not once—even when they were tending my leg and my other wounds. I insisted on staying.

Sage and Maddie were curled on the beds to either side of her, both bandaged, bruised, stitched together with potions and exhaustion. Maddie's arm was in a sling. Sage had her ribs wrapped and one leg propped up on a pillow like she was daring someone to ask her to walk on it.

None of us had said a word in the last hour.

There was nothing left to say.

Until the door creaked open.

I didn't even bother lifting my head. I didn't need to.

The sound of expensive shoes on old stone, the subtle cologne, the breath I didn't realize I was holding—

Draco.

And where he went, Blaise was never far behind.

They stepped into the ward like they had every right to be there, like they weren't dragging every ghost in the room behind them.

I didn't flinch.

Didn't yell. Didn't have the strength to fight them today.

So I let them stand there.

Draco hovered near the foot of Adrien's bed, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on her like she might vanish if he blinked.

"She always picks the dramatic exits, doesn't she?" he said softly, almost to himself.

Blaise crossed his arms. "Second time she's landed here in a year. You'd think someone would've taught her how to stop setting herself on fire."

"Funny," Sage muttered without looking at them. "She's never been the one holding the match."

Draco's gaze flicked to her—then to Maddie.

Both girls were awake now.

Both glaring.

And Blaise? He looked... different. Guarded. Maybe even guilty.

I finally spoke. "If you came to gloat, you're late. The bleeding already stopped."

Draco didn't rise to it. He just studied Adrien, voice quiet. "I didn't come to fight."

"Good," Maddie croaked, shifting painfully. "Because you'd lose."

A beat passed.

Silence thickened.

Then Blaise exhaled. "She saved Potter. You realize that, right?"

"I realize she saved everyone," I said, eyes never leaving Adrien's still face. "Including you."

He nodded, but there was no smugness in it.

"Thanks," Draco said at last, the word foreign on his tongue. "For not kicking us out."

I leaned back in the chair, exhausted. "You're welcome to stay."

My voice dipped lower.

"For five minutes."

Draco cracked the barest smirk. "Generous."

"Try me again in ten," Sage muttered. "I'll be less generous."

Blaise shifted his weight, glancing at Maddie, who didn't break her glare for a second.

"You always know how to make someone feel wanted," he said dryly.

She smiled sweetly. "Only if they are."

He didn't push it.

Draco moved to the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the frame near Adrien's foot.

"She's going to hate this," he said softly.

I nodded. "Yeah. But she's going to wake up to hate it."

That, at least, none of us argued with.

The silence didn't last long.

It never did when the Weasley twins were involved.

The door to the Hospital Wing slammed open like it had been kicked—not pushed—and I didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

"Where is she?" Fred's voice was sharp. Frantic.

"Move—George, move, let me—"

And then they were there.

Fred hit the brakes the second he saw Adrien.

All the color drained from his face.

Adrien, still unconscious, wrapped in too-white sheets. Bandages at her head. Dried blood along her collar. She hadn't so much as twitched since the Ministry.

Fred's chest rose like he'd been punched.

"Bloody hell," George breathed beside him. "She looks..."

"Don't," Fred snapped without looking at him. "Just don't."

He took a slow step forward—and that's when he saw Blaise.

The air in the room shifted.

Fred's fists clenched, jaw tight.

Blaise didn't move. Didn't flinch.

Just met Fred's eyes across Adrien's bed like neither of them had forgotten a single word from their last fight.

I tensed, already halfway to standing, ready to shove one or both of them out the door if it came to it.

But then Fred's eyes dropped.

Back to her. Back to Adrien.

His breath hitched.

The anger didn't leave—it just... cracked.

He stepped back from the bed frame like getting any closer might shatter him too.

"How long's she been like this?" he asked, voice low.

"Since the Ministry," I said, swallowing hard. "She's stable. But she hasn't woken up."

Fred sat in the chair across from me without asking. George stood behind him, arms folded, eyes darting between all of us like he was cataloging damage.

Sage shifted on her cot, wincing. "No throwing punches in the infirmary. That's the rule."

"Is that your rule?" Blaise said coolly.

"It's Madam Pomfrey's," Maddie mumbled from her pillow. "And we all know she's scarier than you."

Blaise smirked. Just slightly.

Fred didn't.

He stared at Adrien like she might disappear if he blinked.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye last time," he said quietly. "Truly."

"She'd hate that you're calling this goodbye," I replied.

He nodded. "Yeah. She would."

The silence settled again—but this time, it wasn't empty.

It was waiting.

Then Blaise's voice cut through it, low and smooth.

"You know," he said, cocking his head toward Fred, "for someone who paraded her through the corridors, you've got a real flair for dramatics and amazing timing."

I rolled my eyes as I caught Maddie and Sage's glare.

Fred's head turned slowly, the look in his eyes ice-cold.

"I'm sorry," he said flatly. "Would you prefer I buried her in the shadows like you did?"

Blaise shrugged—too casual to be genuine. "Not everyone likes living under a spotlight."

"No, some people just like pretending she doesn't exist until it's convenient," Fred snapped.

Blaise's jaw twitched. "And some people treat her like a prize."

"She's not a prize," Fred growled. "She's a person. One you didn't have the guts to claim when it actually mattered."

"Boys," I said, tone razor-sharp. "Pick a window and throw yourselves out of it. Headfirst."

Neither of them moved.

They just stared at each other across Adrien's bed—like her stillness was the only thing keeping them from detonating.

Fred stepped closer, voice dropping.

"You don't get to stand here and act like you were some tragic hero. You hurt her. Repeatedly."

Blaise's smirk vanished, replaced by something tighter. Raw. "I never stopped caring."

Fred's reply came without hesitation. "And I never stopped loving her."

The words didn't explode.

They sank.

Heavy. Inevitable.

Sage exhaled slowly, almost too quiet to hear. Maddie buried her face into the pillow, muttering, "Merlin, someone get me a bat."

Even George looked away.

Then—

From the far corner, Draco, not even glancing up: "If she wakes up and hears you two measuring guilt like it's a bloody duel, she's going to hex you with something poetic. And permanent."

That earned a snort from Maddie, despite everything.

Blaise stepped back slightly, jaw tight.

Fred didn't move. Just ran a hand through his hair, teeth clenched.

Draco finally looked up, expression unreadable. "She's chaos," he said simply. "But she's ours. And I'd rather not lose her again."

And that shut everyone up.

Even Blaise.

Even Fred.

Even me.

Because whatever we were—divided, bruised, angry—

We were all orbiting the same center.

Adrien Blackwood had better wake up.

Because none of us knew how to survive this story without her.

And then—

The door opened again, but this time without a crash. Just a calm click, followed by a voice so measured, so familiar, it made everyone in the room sit straighter.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, stepping in like he'd never been gone. "So this is where the entire fifth-year roster has migrated."

His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, sweeping the room with quiet amusement.

Adrien.

Me.

Sage and Maddie.

Fred and George, even Blaise and Draco.

All crowded around three hospital beds, but centered around one person, like some strange makeshift war council.

"Quite the fan club," he added with a faint smile, "for one unconscious girl."

No one laughed.

But the edges of the tension frayed.

Just a little.

He stopped at the foot of Adrien's bed, resting his hand gently on the railing. "I've spoken with the healers. Miss Blackwood's condition is stable—though it may take some time before she regains consciousness."

I exhaled, barely realizing I'd been holding my breath again.

"And," Dumbledore added with a bit more brightness, "you'll all be pleased to know that Professor Umbridge has been officially escorted off the premises."

That got a reaction.

Sage snorted. Maddie mumbled something like "finally." Both had obviously been kept up to date thanks to yours truly and Adrien via owl.

Fred actually clapped once.

George bowed his head like someone had lifted a curse.

I just blinked, stunned. "Wait—gone?"

"Gone," he confirmed. "Effective immediately. She'll find a far less forgiving audience at the Ministry."

He turned, producing two beautifully folded parchments from the inside of his cloak—each sealed with a dark blue wax crest.

"I was also asked to deliver these," Dumbledore said, his voice softening. "Official correspondence from Beauxbatons Academy."

He stepped forward, offering one to Maddie and the other to Sage.

"Formally requesting your transfer to Hogwarts," he explained. "It seems word of your bravery traveled quickly—and they believe, as I do, that the both of you would be... better placed among those you bled beside."

Maddie's eyes widened as she slowly took the parchment, like she wasn't sure it wouldn't vanish the moment she touched it.

Sage blinked down at hers, then muttered, "That's a lot of flourish for nearly dying."

Dumbledore chuckled, clearly not offended. "Excellence," he said, "is often born from fire. You—Miss Robbins, and Miss Sun—-have proven yourselves far beyond the walls of any classroom."

He turned then, eyes sweeping gently over the rest of us.

"And you, Miss Blackwood."

I lifted my head, startled to hear my name spoken like that—clear, deliberate.

"Your leadership, your loyalty, your sheer determination to hold your friends together under extraordinary pressure—has not gone unnoticed. Hogwarts is proud to call you one of its own."

My throat closed up. I looked away before the tears had the chance to win.

"And—the other—Miss Blackwood," Dumbledore continued, turning toward Adrien's still form. "In every generation, there is always one who steps into the fire before anyone else can think to move. Who does not hesitate. Who throws themselves in without asking the cost."

His voice caught, just barely.

"She saved Mr. Potter's life. And she very nearly gave her own doing it."

The silence that followed was reverent.

Even Fred looked down.

"Which," Dumbledore said gently, "brings me to one more matter."

He paused, and when he spoke again, the brightness in his tone dimmed.

"There was... another loss. Sirius Black was killed in the Ministry battle—pushed beyond the Veil by Bellatrix Lestrange."

Fred closed his eyes.

"He fought bravely," Dumbledore added, voice heavy with grief and pride. "And I believe, with everything in me, that Adrien's actions helped ensure Harry did not join him."

No one spoke.

No one could.

The weight of it sank into the room like smoke—thick, suffocating.

Dumbledore let it settle.

Then, after a long moment, he exhaled softly and glanced around—at Fred and Blaise, still on opposite sides of Adrien's bed like she was the last bridge between two cliffs; at Sage and Maddie, battered but breathing; and finally, at me.

Trying.

And failing.

Not to fall apart.

"I must say," he murmured, his lips tugging into a faint, tired smile, "I've walked into more tension in this room than I did during the last Triwizard scandal. And that involved a dragon."

It didn't crack the silence.

But it softened it.

Just enough.

With that, he gave a graceful nod and turned toward the door, his robes whispering across the floor as he left us to ourselves.

But the air still felt heavy. Still tasted like loss.

I sniffled, catching Sage's eyes, a subtle I'll crack that joke later.

I frowned and found the question falling out of my mouth, "If even Sirius couldn't outrun the system... what chance do the rest of us have?"