The De4th Eaters had just dispersed. You stood just beyond the doorway, your presence cloaked in the shadow. You had listened to every word, every subtle shift in tone, every mention of your name that was never spoken.

B3IIatrix. Your mother. She had spoken of you, again.

"You’ve all heard of my daughter, haven’t you?" Her voice was laced with something softer—longing, perhaps. "My sweet girl, missing for over a year now. It’s impossible to think she’s gone... I keep telling myself she’ll return."

"Have you heard any news?" Mattheo asked. "Could she have... betrayed us?"

"No." Your mother’s answer was immediate. "No, she would never do that. She was always loyal. It’s just... she’s gone, and I fear we may never see her again."

"Do you think she’s still alive?" Draco’s voice was more thoughtful than usual.

You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp sting of emotion burning in your chest. But you knew the truth. You couldn’t reveal yourself. You couldn’t step into that room and make her believe you were who she thought you were. That version of you—the girl who had vanished a year ago—was gone.

"I don’t know," B3IIatrix said. "I’ve looked everywhere. Asked questions. But no one knows anything."

Your heart ached with every word, every thought of her. But you didn’t let it show. You had become someone else, someone the De4th Eaters trusted. They had no reason to doubt you. You had walked among them, just another mask, just another loyal follower. They didn’t know. They couldn’t.

They had no idea you were her daughter—the one who had disappeared, the one she had mourned.

With a quiet breath, you took a step back into the darkness, away from the door, away from their voices. She doesn’t need to know. Not now. Not ever.