Betrayal of the Black

sixty-five

HER HANDS WERE WET WITH blood. They were never given the chance to dry, forcibly drenched by each kill. They weren't the only part of her that was stained with blood, either.

After their departure from the first room, they had gone through the same process twice more. The next area had been much smaller in comparison, but the final location—the Entrance Hall—was much larger than both combined.

The fighting did not just occur at the bottom of the staircase, but also on it, on its landing, and the hallways preceding it. It was an absolute bloodbath. Particularly of students, considering they had reservations about using any particularly dark hexes or jinxes.

The process was the same as their first infiltration. They worked in pairs to inconspicuously eliminate as many Death Eaters as they could. Celestia would slit throats when she got the chance, and when the population in the room dwindled enough so there wasn't any risk of accidental fatalities, she would incorporate the use of the Killing Curse.

There would come a point where it became necessary for Celestia to reveal herself—and by consequence the others, as it was the best course of action. She was restrained but efficient when made to kill covertly. When freed, her effectiveness tripled as did her body count.

In the entrance hall, however, she found she recognised the occasional face. Barring hers, then, wasn't the ideal option. Her solution had been easy—to keep her hood up, even after revealing she wasn't allied with the Death Eaters. It was a bit of struggle, but she had been a Death Eater for a time after all. She had some tricks up her sleeve.

Ramming her dagger through the stomach of a Death Eater, her foot rose in a roundhouse kick to combat the attacker behind her. The Death Eaters' wand clattered to the floor. With the one at her back momentarily stunned, and the one before her debilitating into shock, she shoved her hand into the incision she'd made in the latter.

Her hand curled around the man's intestines. She yanked them out as the man collapsed to the floor. The other Death Eater threw a poor excuse of a punch, and she easily ducked and moved behind them. The intestines were slippery in her hands, and she lost her grip for a second while she wrapped the innards around the Death Eater's throat.

Her boot connected with the back of their knees, and the Death Eater fell to half their height. She tightened the intestines, strangling them, as she breathed heavily. The Death Eater fruitlessly tried to rip away the entrails.

On one of her arms, she could feel a cut running up along her arm. Her hip ached in a way she knew would develop into a bruise. There was a cut somewhere on her leg, too. For the most part, she was relatively unharmed. The pain she felt now was something she could easily handle.

Once she had catalogued all her injuries and somewhat regulated her breathing, she raised two of her fingers to the temple of the Death Eater. "Avada Kedavra," she muttered.

The man instantly became dead weight in her hold. She let go of them, and alongside the intestines, the body collapsed to the floor. Without looking up, she could feel copious eyes on her.

There was the feeling of being approached, and her mind was too hazy to try and figure whether they were friend or foe. It was less effort for her if she merely waited for them to reach her. She needed a break, for as long she could take.

As soon as the person was within reach, she swung around with a punch; her other hand was ready with her wand.

A hand curled around her wrist. Her gaze met Regulus's.

"Sorry," she murmured.

His mouth opened to respond, but her senses were still in overdrive. Using Regulus's grip on her, she utilised her strength to yank him behind her—and out of the trajectory of an incoming spell from one of the last remaining Death Eaters. It was instinct to instantly return their attempt with the Killing Curse. They were dead within seconds.