The spell left your wand before you could stop it — a blur of instinct, fear, love.

The man had his wand raised at Lorenzo, the killing curse already forming on his lips. You didn’t think. You didn’t have time to think.

Your spell hit first.

It hurled him back into the stone wall with a bone-splintering crack. He hit the ground hard, twitching, wheezing, blood spreading fast beneath him.

You stared. Frozen.

“I…” you whispered, your voice breaking around the word. “I killed him.”

Your wand slipped from your fingers. Your hands were shaking.

Lorenzo stepped in front of you, shielding your view — not just from the body, but from the weight of what you thought you’d done.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t flinch.

He raised his wand.

“Avada Kedavra.”

The flash was quick. Final.

He turned back to you, and though war raged all around, he looked only at you — like you were the only thing that mattered.

“I- i didn’t.. i didn’t mean to kill him i—“

“No, darling,” he said, brushing a hand through your hair, settling it gently behind your ear. “I did that. Not you. Not my sweet girl.”

His fingers curled around yours, grounding.

“That was me, baby,” he said quietly, like a fact. “I killed him, not you.”

And even as the world burned around you, his arms became the one place it couldn’t touch.