CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dahlia's voice was hoarse and strained as she shouted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was so consumed with fear and desperation for Hugo that she completely forgot her own danger. The pain in her throat from the scream only fueled her panic, but she couldn't stop. Hugo was slipping away before her eyes, and she couldn't—wouldn't—let him die. Every cry she made was for him.

"Why does it have to be him?" Harlow's voice was calm but laced with a cold bitterness, her tone almost detached as she watched Dahlia thrash and scream. "What is so great about someone like him?"

Dahlia's voice broke as she forced out a response, her words barely above a whisper. "Even if I explained, it wouldn't matter. No matter what I say, you won't understand," she said hoarsely, struggling against the pressure of Harlow's arm around her neck. The wand at her temple dug in deeper with each passing moment, cutting off her breath. Every gasp she tried to take was stifled, her vision blurring as she fought to stay conscious.

Hugo, who was barely clinging to consciousness, could still hear the voices. They seemed muffled, as though coming from a faraway place, but he could still make out their words. The poison was taking its toll on him quickly—his limbs felt heavy, and his body was weakening by the second. Yet, through the haze of his fading consciousness, he could still hear Dahlia's voice. Soft, reassuring, and so full of determination. It was the only thing keeping him from slipping completely into the dark void of unconsciousness.

Harlow's voice grew louder, biting and venomous. "He didn't even know, did he?" she spat, her words directed at Dahlia. "He was so dense to your feelings! He doesn't understand! He's just like everyone else—he doesn't see how precious you are!" Her voice echoed in Dahlia's ears, the volume making Dahlia wince, but she didn't flinch. She kept her eyes locked on Hugo, unwilling to look away.

The grip around Dahlia's neck tightened, making it harder for her to think, but she could feel the faintest shift of power. Harlow might have had her held in place, but Dahlia was far from beaten.

"Stop!" Dahlia gasped, her body straining against the hold. She didn't care about the pain in her neck anymore—her only thought was for Hugo. She had to save him.

But Harlow wasn't listening. "Why do you care so much about him?" Harlow sneered, her breath hot against Dahlia's ear. "What's so special about him, Dahlia? Why does it have to be him?"

Dahlia's thoughts swirled as she tried to gather her strength, her muscles screaming in protest. Her heart raced, her mind desperately scrambling for a way out. She had no wand, no way to defend herself, but her focus was razor-sharp, focused entirely on Hugo. Her breaths came shallow and laboured, but she didn't stop fighting.

"What did you think you'd gain from hurting Lily and playing with Hugo's emotions?" Dahlia managed to croak out. "If you're so sure of your feelings for me, why didn't you just tell me, Harlow? Why involve everyone else in your sick game?"

Harlow sighed, the sound more like a soft chuckle than anything else, her voice turning almost tender as she nuzzled her nose into Dahlia's hair. "Maybe it would've been easier, Merlin," she muttered almost fondly, her lips brushing against Dahlia's scalp. "It would've saved me from having to snog that fool. But I did what was right. I got rid of the distractions."

Dahlia's stomach twisted at Harlow's words. The sheer coldness and calculated cruelty in her voice made every word seem like a knife twisting deeper into her gut. But she didn't have time to dwell on the horror of it. Her gaze remained fixed on Hugo, whose breathing was shallow, each exhale seeming weaker than the last. His eyes were half-lidded, fighting to stay open, but the poison was taking its toll.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Dahlia reacted. She wasn't going to just stand there and let him die. Her legs lashed out, entangling with Harlow's in a desperate bid to destabilize her. She dug her nails into the Hufflepuff's arm, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought for control. The wand at her temple dug in harder, sending a sharp pain through her skull, but Dahlia gritted her teeth and fought through the agony.

Slowly, painfully, Dahlia managed to break free from Harlow's grip on her neck. She could finally take in a breath, the air rushing back into her lungs, but it was far from over. Harlow whipped her wand, but Dahlia wasn't fast enough to avoid it. Hugo, who had somehow mustered the strength to move, staggered between them, positioning himself between Dahlia and Harlow.

Hugo let out a strangled cry of pain as the wand's tip jabbed into his eye. His body collapsed, a scream of agony escaping his lips. The sound made Dahlia's blood run cold, and without thinking, she launched herself at Harlow, tackling her to the ground.

The sudden movement sent the wand clattering to the floor, the noise sharp in the tense silence. Blood dripped from Hugo's eye, staining the floor, and Dahlia's heart raced in panic. She could barely keep herself together as she struggled to restrain Harlow, her hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline.

Harlow fought beneath her, struggling to break free, but Dahlia held her down with every ounce of strength she had left. The sound of the wand clattering on the stone floor seemed to echo through the halls as Dahlia fought to keep control of the situation. She could feel Harlow's body squirming beneath her, but Dahlia didn't let go. Not this time. Not when Hugo needed her.

With a growl of frustration, Dahlia reached for the wand, pointing it directly at Harlow's face. "Stay down, if you know what's good for you," Dahlia hissed, her voice a mixture of fury and fear.

But there was no time to savour the victory. Dahlia's mind raced, her thoughts shifting quickly. With a grim expression, she cast a spell, a Patronus charm, sending a bright silver doe galloping through the air. It was a signal for help—someone had to come. Someone had to stop Harlow and help them.

She didn't wait to see the Patronus disappear. Dahlia turned, her eyes frantic as she rushed to Hugo's side. His body was limp, his face pale and covered in sweat, and the pain on his face was too much to bear. Dahlia's hands shook as she reached for the small vial of potion hanging from her necklace.

She had always carried it with her—an antidote she'd created herself from the many potions she had worked with over the years. The poison Harlow had used wasn't completely unfamiliar to her, and the scent of withered roses gave her a sense of confidence. She knew this poison. She could fight it.

"Hugo, I'm sorry. This will burn," Dahlia whispered, her voice soft with regret as she gently tilted his head back to pour the potion into his throat.

As she did, Hugo's body convulsed, and his screams of pain filled the air, louder than anything Dahlia had heard before. It was like his body was on fire, the poison fighting the antidote.

But Dahlia held him close, whispering words of encouragement as the sound of footsteps grew louder in the distance. Help was coming. But it might be too late.

Dahlia's heart continued to race in her chest, each frantic beat a painful reminder of how fragile the situation was. She held Hugo tightly in her arms, his weight heavy against her, and her fingers trembling as they pressed against his cooling skin. His breathing was shallow, his pulse weak. She could feel the poison working its way through his body, a cruel force that seemed to drain the life from him with every second that passed. It was moving faster than she'd expected, faster than she could keep up with. The antidote she'd given him wasn't enough. She had to do more, she had to save him.

Her voice was shaky, but she forced it to remain steady as she leaned down close to his ear, her words soft but urgent. "Hugo, stay with me. You're going to be okay. Just hold on. Please."

She swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat nearly choking her as she watched his eyes flutter, his face pale and strained. She didn't know how much time they had left. The poison was coursing through his veins, and her panic was threatening to overwhelm her. Was it too late? Had the poison already spread too far? She couldn't lose him. She refused to.

In the distance, the sound of hurried footsteps grew louder. Dahlia's eyes snapped up, and a sense of fleeting hope surged through her as students and professors appeared, all of them seemingly drawn by the chaos of the moment. And then, as if summoned by the tension in the air, Headmistress McGonagall appeared, her expression tight with concern.

Her Patronus had reached them.

McGonagall's eyes scanned the scene, her gaze sweeping over Dahlia, her hands clutching Hugo desperately, before landing on Harlow, sprawled on the ground nearby. There was a brief moment of stillness before McGonagall's stern expression softened just enough to give a silent command to the professors standing nearby. They nodded and moved to usher the students away from the scene, clearing the area so that the professors could take charge.

Dahlia barely noticed the others as they led the students away. Her focus was entirely on Hugo, on trying to keep him alive, on hoping against everything that it wasn't too late. But then, as McGonagall approached, her eyes narrowed in on Harlow, lying on the floor, unmoving and eerily calm. Harlow knew, just as Dahlia did, that she was done for. There was no escape now.

The Headmistress knelt beside Dahlia, her hands hovering over Hugo's body, her gaze flicking quickly to the professors who had gathered around. Without a word, she turned to Slughorn, who was kneeling next to them, his eyes wide in disbelief at the gravity of the situation. Dahlia, feeling a surge of anger and desperation, couldn't help herself anymore. She felt the heat of the emotion rise in her chest, and before anyone could say anything, she spoke, her voice hoarse with frustration and fear.

"Harlow poisoned him," Dahlia said, her voice cracking. "She did this to him. She pushed Lily down the stairs. She's the reason why Hugo's in danger. She did all of this!"

Slughorn's face contorted with shock, and McGonagall's expression darkened, her eyes narrowing with the weight of what Dahlia was saying. The reality of the situation was sinking in, and the pieces were falling into place.

But Dahlia wasn't done. Her anger surged again, fueled by the fear of losing Hugo, by the frustration of everything that had happened. "She used him, manipulated him. All for what? Because she couldn't stand that someone else was close to me? She poisoned him, and now... now she's going to get away with it unless someone stops her!"

Dahlia's chest heaved as she struggled to stay composed, but the words poured out of her in a rush, each sentence more bitter than the last. The thought of Harlow getting away with this—of hurting the people Dahlia loved—was too much. She wasn't going to let that happen.

McGonagall's gaze was unwavering as she turned to the still form of Harlow on the ground. The Headmistress's voice was firm, and commanding as she addressed the situation. "We'll deal with her later. Right now, Hugo's safety is our priority."

Dahlia nodded, her hands shaking as she returned her focus to Hugo, watching as the professors worked quickly to stabilize him. But even as they moved swiftly, she couldn't help the dread that settled over her. Was it enough? Would he be okay?

And as the professors worked to tend to Hugo, Dahlia couldn't escape the fact that this was only the beginning. The poison wasn't the only thing they had to worry about. Harlow had made her move, and Dahlia knew that whatever came next, it wouldn't be easy.