Harry x Hermione: It started early

chapter twenty seven

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Chapter twenty seven: Echoes of Rage

The confrontation had left the trio reeling—tangled in a web of revelations, emotions, and the weight of the past that had come crashing down upon them. As the echoes of their shared history reverberated in the corridor, tension hung heavy in the air.

Harry's chest heaved with anger, his eyes locked onto Peter Pettigrew—once a friend, now a traitor. The knowledge that Pettigrew had sold out his parents to Voldemort ignited a seething rage within him, a fire that threatened to consume all reason.

"You!" Harry's voice crackled with fury, his wand trembling in his grip. "You're the reason they're dead."

Pettigrew's eyes were wide with fear, his voice pleading. "Harry, please... I didn't have a choice. You don't understand."

But understanding was a distant concept in the haze of Harry's anger. His vision was clouded, his mind consumed by the desire for retribution—for justice.

Hermione's voice cut through the tension, her words a desperate plea. "Harry, stop! This won't bring your parents back."

Tears welled in her eyes, her voice laced with a mixture of compassion and urgency. She moved closer to him, her touch gentle as she reached out to steady his trembling hand.

"Harry, we need to think this through," Hermione implored. "Killing him won't solve anything. It won't bring them back, and it won't bring you peace."

Harry's chest rose and fell as he stared at Pettigrew, the struggle within him evident in his gaze. He was torn between the burning desire for vengeance and the voice of reason—the voice that Hermione had become, whispering against the storm of his anger.

But before Harry could make a decision, Sirius intervened—a figure of both authority and desperation. His voice was ragged as he raised Remus's wand, his eyes holding a weight of pain that mirrored Harry's own.

"Stupefy."

A bolt of light shot from Sirius's wand, striking Harry in the chest. His body stiffened, his eyes widening in shock as his limbs betrayed him. The world around him spun, his vision blurring as darkness crept in.

Hermione's voice was a distant murmur as her touch faded away. Harry's body crumpled to the ground, his mind a tumultuous whirlwind of confusion, anger, and disbelief.

As the darkness claimed him, Harry's last thoughts were a maelstrom of emotions—the echo of his rage, the weight of his grief, and the sense of betrayal that had driven him to this point.

In the stillness of the corridor, the trio's fate had been sealed—a fate entwined with the shadows of the past, the choices that had shaped their lives, and the bonds that had both forged and fractured under the weight of the truth.