The air hummed with an unseen force, the weight of their sacrifice pressing against them.

To bring her back, they offered what defined them—memories they cherished most, pieces of their souls they would never reclaim.

One by one, the past slipped away.

Mattheo’s voice was rough, barely holding together. “The day Father looked at me—really looked—after I cursed that traitor in the dungeon. ‘Well done, son,’ he said, pride in his cold eyes. It was the only time he saw me.” His shoulders slumped slightly, that rare, painful approval dissolving into nothingness.

Tom’s gaze remained forward, his voice lowering, cracking just slightly. “A corridor at night, her quiet call of my name turning my head. The only time it felt like mine.” His shoulders shifted, then squared, the call lost forever to the void.

Theo inhaled shakily. “My mother’s voice, singing an Italian lullaby. Her warmth was my shield against the world—until she was gone.” A single tear slipped past his defenses before the song faded, silenced.

Draco’s voice, cold yet wistful, broke the quiet. “Flying above the manor at dusk. Mother smiled up at me—proud, unbroken. It was the last time I felt truly free.” His silver eyes dimmed as the memory slipped from his grasp.

Regulus barely whispered. “Sirius tugging me behind the curtains when Mother’s voice turned sharp. ‘I’ve got you,’ he breathed—until he didn’t anymore.” His breath hitched as the warmth of Sirius’s hand faded from existence.

Enzo’s voice wavered, fragile yet warm. “A rainy day in the village, an old shopkeeper sharing his fire with me after I’d run from the manor. ‘You’re enough, lad,’ he said—words no one else ever spoke.” His gentle gaze faltered as that kindness vanished.

“The first time I heard my mother laugh—really laugh—in Italy. The sea breeze carried it, and for once, she wasn’t scheming.” Blaise closed his eyes as the sound, fleeting and rare, was swallowed.

They stood emptier, yet unbroken. If this was the price of her return, they‘d pay it a thousand times over.