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The room floods with white light.
Harry is on his feet so fast that the chair topples and clatters to the floor, his wand in his hand and a spell on his lips.
“They’re outside,” a voice speaks from the luminescent mist, magic barely enough to carry the sound; it’s stripped to a featureless monotone, far away like an echo. “I can’t hold them off much longer. I need help, Potter."
Harry stares as the mist dissolves, its dazzling brightness leaving floating spots of colour on his retinas. Eyes watering, wand still clenched in his hand, he says:
“Fuck.”Bookmarked by MariaRP
22 Jul 2024
