The voice belonged to a dark-haired boy near the castle entrance. He had a cut above his eyebrow and looked like he'd been fighting for hours. His grey eyes narrowed at the sky, wand still raised.

The pale man in the distance barely moved. His red eyes were fixed on the crumpled figure with the kind of cold fascination that made the air around him feel ten degrees colder. A few Death Eaters started moving toward her immediately.

The boy with the scar moved fast. He was dirty, exhausted and looked like he'd already watched too many people die tonight, but his wand was steady.

Around them, the battle had entirely stopped. Both sides were watching the girl on the ground like she might explode. Someone in the crowd muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

A few metres to the left, a tall figure in a Slytherin uniform lowered his wand slightly. Mattheo Riddle looked down at the mystery girl with absolutely no warmth in his expression—just irritation, exhaustion and suspicion.