The thunder cracked overhead as the Order of the Phoenix burst through the rotting doors of the abandoned manor, wands raised and spells already flying. You barely had time to draw your wand before a Stupefy shot past your head, scorching the wallpaper behind you.

You ducked behind an upturned table, heart pounding. So they found me.

"Give it up!" shouted Tonks, her voice echoing through the hallway. "We’ve got you surrounded!"

You knew the odds—five of them, one of you. Moody’s magical eye was probably tracking your every breath. But surrender wasn’t in your nature. With a sharp flick, you cast a volley of curses, forcing them to take cover.

But it was Remus who flanked you—silent, fast. A disarming spell hit your wand, sending it skittering across the floor. You lunged for it, but Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into your path, wand trained steadily on your chest.

“Enough,” he said calmly.

Panting, cornered, and wandless, you straightened. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” you hissed. “You think you’re heroes? You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Moody stepped forward, cloak billowing like a storm cloud. “Save it for the dementors.”

As the ropes of the binding spell coiled tightly around you.