A chill had pervaded the air, lingering like the thin, cold mist in the cemetery.
Harry ran as if his life depended on it. Well, his life did depend on it. Not only his, but many other lives depended on it, making him run even faster.
He screamed something incomprehensible.
Sirius didn't hear him but got the meaning. He got up as fast as he could and bolted, his breath so broken that it echoed against the tombstones. Even as he ran to meet Harry, he looked down and lifted his hand off his chest. It was wet. In the moonlit darkness, the blackness of the blood glared back at him… like death.
Sirius ignored it and quickened his steps, nearing Harry, who had stopped next to Lupin.
For a moment, both Harry and Sirius just looked at the fallen wizard. Stunned. Only a few minutes ago, this man had been with them, trying to guide each of them toward a better path. Now, he lay on the ground. Dead.
But neither Sirius nor Harry had nearly enough time to mourn the loss.
From the other side, as panicked as the two of them, Draco and Ron came, both carried by Werewolf Hermione on her back.
Meanwhile, Black hopped across the cemetery, leaving behind bluish, magical silhouettes in his wake. He appeared next to a knocked-out Daphne, lifted her in his arms, and then rushed toward Harry and Sirius, arriving almost at the same time as the Werewolf.
And now… they were all there.
Together.
Wait…
Harry's face suddenly paled.
His head snapped toward the Shrieking Shack's rubble, over Barty Crouch Jr., who was trying to get up, as he thought of the one person who hadn't joined the fight.
Not only Harry, but even Sirius, Ron, and Black were only now realizing who was missing.
This… was not good.
Their eyes landed on Draco, dread on their faces.
Sure enough, Malfoy was already looking in that direction, his eyes letting out a magical glow.
Using Acute Perception, Draco wasn't trying to Disapparate to Hogwarts, but… he was trying to find Darcie first.
Time was literally slipping out of their hands.
Yet, none of them could say anything.
What was there even to say? Leave Darcie behind and run? Leave her in Voldemort's hands? Would they even be able to look into Draco's eyes… into their own eyes after doing such a thing?!
"Arggggggggggggh!"
It was less of a beastly growl and more of a burst of magical force.
It came like a stormy gust of wind and knocked all of them off their feet, the air abandoning their lungs.
Voldemort, thoroughly pissed, enraged, and… slightly amazed, walked toward the group, puffs of breath coiling as they left thin, snakelike nostrils. He kept taking furtive glances at his wand, feeling its shaky hotness, remembering the appearance of the ghosts.
Opposite him, the group from Hogwarts stumbled back to their feet and eyed the Dark Lord approaching them.
And, instantly, they knew… they had lost the only opportunity to run away.
Draco, with a heavy nauseating feeling, realized that, too. He knew Harry and the others had been counting on him to take them back, but he couldn't just leave his sister in the hands of this monster.
Voldemort's burst of magic had slammed against not only his body but also his consciousness, making him lose focus. He had been trying to sense Darcie's location with all his might, hoping to Apparate to her with everyone and then instantly returning to Hogwarts.
Now Draco doubted Voldemort he would have more chances.
"Hope…" Voldemort hissed. "Why do I still sense it within your sorry group of fools? Is it because you outnumber me? Not that I care about that, but… let's squash that hope, too. Bellatrix!"
The wounded witch appeared from behind Voldemort as if she had been crawling in his shadow all this time. Without needing any further command, she stretched out her left arm… the bloody stump glaring right at Harry and the others.
Voldemort flicked his wand, first creating a silvery replica of a hand. It gurgled across the space and lodged itself on that bloody stump, Bellatrix's eyes widening with a mad grin as she flexed the fingers of her new hand.
Then, Voldemort's wand landed on her arm just above the silvery hand.
A tattoo of a skull and serpent appeared there, undulating like water.
"Let's see who is still loyal to me," Voldemort said. "And who are foolish enough to believe that they have a place in the Dark Alliance without me…"
Not even a moment had passed when CRACKS filled the space, dark-robed Death Eaters apparating everywhere, falling to their knees, their cheery yell filling the cemetery.
The soldiers of the Order of Black Phoenix looked around and found themselves surrounded, as if they truly needed a threat more potent than Voldemort himself.
Yet, that had truly done the trick, it seemed.
The little hope the group had carried to somehow still run away by playing a few tricks on Voldemort disappeared as all Death Eaters got up under Voldemort's command and pointed their wands at them.
One could even say that, if not for a miracle, then even if Dumbledore managed to come back in the next few moments, all he would have left to do would be to pick up their pieces… or let the cemetery consume their dead bodies, as befitting the place it was.
So, yes.
They needed a miracle.
They once again needed hope when all seemed lost.
Just like… just like the time when they would have lost everything if it weren't for their status as Hallows of the Cult of Scion of Death.
[I hate your conspiracies, Nyarlathotep!] Timeline hissed.
Come on, now, Black hissed back in his mind, mocking. Don't act like you have emotions or something. Even I am more emotional than… whatever you are. I would advise you to hurry… And if you don't want to, then that's fine with me as well. I will complete my mission with whatever is left of them when it's all over.
A worldly scoff rumbled in Black's mind, jolting his Source.
In the next moment, his eyes lit up with a brilliant, but dull gray Notification.
And, slowly, but surely, the corners of Black's mouth behind the helmet arched up, glaring at the Hidden Mission.
It was time to bring a rumbling end to this dark episode.