The tub is dry. You couldn’t bring yourself to run the water. Too final. Too messy. Too much like the kind of thing they’d find in a tragic story.

Your phone screen glows in the dim light, a single message sent. Two words. The only two words that ever really matter in the end.

The silver of the blade in your other hand is a familiar, chilling weight. A promise. An ending.

Outside the locked door of your Hogwarts dorm bathroom, the castle is quiet. It’s late. Everyone is asleep, or studying, or sneaking around. Living.

Your phone doesn’t ring. It doesn’t buzz with a frantic call. It just… sits there. Silent.

For one long, suspended moment, there is only the sound of your own breathing, and the terrible, welcoming peace of the decision you’ve made.

Then, a sound. Not from your phone.

A series of sharp, frantic bangs on the wooden door, so hard the frame shudders.