NL

The Burrow had never felt so heavy. Silence. Thick. Smothering. It pressed against the walls like a curse. Only broken things remained. Muffled sobs. Hurried footsteps. The scrape of boots on blood-slick floorboards. The kitchen was a ruin of aftermath. Blood on stone. Bandages half-cast, half-dropped. Potions spilled and forgotten mid-heal. Every face was pale. Every eye hollow. Relief—too sharp to last. Grief—too deep to name. Mad-Eye Moody was dead. George Weasley had lost an ear. And Harry Potter— was not there. Wands stayed drawn. No one spoke above breath. Even breathing felt dangerous. Then— Nothing. A beat of stillness so complete it rang. Then— BANG. The door didn’t open. It exploded inward. Wood cracked. Hinges screamed. Rain and night air tore into the room. Every wand snapped up at once. Instant. Violent. Unified. Kingsley moved first. Remus stepped in front of Tonks. Arthur pulled Molly back. Bill and Charlie raised their wands in the same motion. A heartbeat of pure threat. And in the doorway— you. Soaked. Shaking. Barely standing. Black robes torn open by travel and impact. Mud. Ash. Blood—too much of it to be yours alone. Something silver slipped from your fingers. A Death Eater mask. It hit the floor. Clattered. Loud in the silence. No one breathed. Not even the rain seemed to move. “…Y/N?” Harry’s voice broke from the stairs. Hoarse. Disbelieving. Alive. “You?” Ron didn’t speak. He just stared. Hermione’s wand tightened in her grip. “Don’t move.” Moody’s voice echoed in memory. Instinct. Reflex. Ghost. Kingsley’s tone was lower. Colder. “Hands where we can see them.” You obeyed immediately. Slow. Careful. Empty palms raised. “I—I heard,” you said. Too fast. Too raw. “The ambush. They said—” A breath caught. “They said you walked into it.” No one lowered their wand. Bill’s voice cut through. “They’re lying.” “I know.” That stopped them. Just for a second. Your eyes moved across the ro