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Part Three / Chapter Eighty-One
"Harry Potter is dead!"
Those words rang and waved around like a fly buzzing in your ears as Metatron tightened her grip around Venus' neck. Her kicking weakened, eyes rolled toward the back of her head as the air was constricted from her throat. The gasps of everyone around them echoed. The warriors of Hogwarts almost couldn't believe it, even though the truth was right in front of their eyes.
Harry, motionless in Hagrid's arms, and Venus, on her way to the other side as Metatron violently shook her.
Her hands grasped onto Metatron's, a tiny stream of air squeezing itself through her airway. This gave Venus a little sense of relief as she tried her absolute best to keep talking— that'd be the only way she could defeat Metatron. The way she tormented her for years, the exact way she kept Venus' powers under control. By making a deal with the death eaters to make her father hate her and let her brain do the rest. Words pierced through them harder than Venus ever imagined, and she was unable to complete tang with Metatron's fingers nearly piercing through her neck every time she attempted to utter a word.
Hermione watched in horror as one of her best friends was dying right in front of her. She couldn't just stand there and do nothing, but if she attempted anything, any of these others angels could kill her within a second.
Ron stood beside her, teary-eyed. "What if this is how it ends?"
"Don't say that, Ron," Hermione said in a hushed voice. "There must be something. Something!" She took a small breath before she went into full-blown panic mode. There was always an answer, always. "Venus is smart. She must have figured out something."
Ron didn't answer. His eyes focused on Metatron and Venus. Hermione looked up at him, "Ron, are you listening?"
"Is she trying to say... something?"
"What?"
Ron motioned toward the angels. "It looks like Venus is trying to speak."
Hermione spun her head around, concentrating on Venus' lips as they quivered in dire attempts at speaking to her abuser. She let out a tiny gasp, "She's trying to talk. We have to get Metatron to loosen her grip, that's something we can help with."
"What can we do?"
"Constance didn't create this stunning spell for no reason."
"But she's an archangel, like an angel times a billion," Ron spoke.
"Just gather as many people here as you can, and do it quietly," Hermione said, heading over to call students toward them. "This battle isn't over."
Metatron's sharp eyes laid on Venus' pleading ones, like any other deranged sicko, they giggled. "Earth's most powerful creature, dying at the hands of the inferior." She recited mockingly. "It's heartbreaking, but also enlightening," Venus was thrust closer to her face. "It goes to show anyone who believes mating with the lesser species creates some ferocious being is wrong, dreadfully wrong."
