| THIRTYONE: TOMORROW NIGHT

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
TOMORROW NIGHT

            Amandla stared at the fire before her intently. Still, they were at the Stature house and still no one knew if everyone was safe. They hadn't heard word from the Burrow and also none from Hermione, but the last part wasn't exactly surprising. Amandla didn't expect an answer from the girl, knowing it would be too dangerous.

         She was holding a mug full of tea, yet her eyes never left the flames. Anastasia was in her room, asleep, and she imagined the same for Caesar at least. Cevira had decided to read by herself, wanting to calm down and not allow her mind to wander to the thought that maybe someone in the Order died the day of the wedding. Amandla didn't want to think about it either, but what else could she think about? What distraction could she fill her mind with? None.

         Of course, when she thought of this, the possibility that maybe Hermione died entered her mind. She tried to push it away, Hermione was too smart to be killed from a simple attack from Death Eaters. That's not how she would end – not how she would die. If anyone was going to survive the war, it would be here. She was too smart to be killed. She had to be. Because if Amandla couldn't believe that, what other hope did she have?

         Hermione was brave, willing to follow her friends anywhere. She followed Harry to the Department of Mysteries, but admittedly so did a whole group. She stood up, said they had to stand against Umbridge and teach themselves. That was bravery Amandla could never achieve. She was only a follower never the leader.

         Amandla...Amandla...

         So the Granger girl had to survive. That girl was her hope that maybe she could survive, she could see the world without a war looming. Without the thought of it. The 'when' of it. It was never if. Even when she thought of it, it was never if the war started, if Voldemort rose back to power; it was always when.

         She knew it would be foolish to believe he was truly dead. She knew it was foolish to deny the truth that maybe there wouldn't be a war, even if she tried to. Because Amandla Fitzgerald always knew that one thing in her life was certain: when Voldemort came back into power, she was going to be a Death Eater. And now that she didn't, another thing was certain: she was going to die.

         Yet, she clung onto the hope that maybe she wouldn't. And Hermione was that hope. She thought of how smart the girl was, how she wouldn't die, and that gave Amandla hope that maybe she wouldn't either. Even if that hope was small.

         The fire crackled before her and there was the sound of the wind blaring outside. She took a sip of her tea, eyes never wavering from the fire. The inside of the house was quiet and dark, being past eleven that night as she was dressed in pajamas with a blanket on top her. It was almost peaceful.

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