The dim light from the enchanted candles flickered against the walls, casting long shadows that danced between the three of you. Harry's voice sliced through the silence like a whip, sharp and unrelenting.

"So you're not just a traitor, huh? You're a coward!" His green eyes blazed with anger, the weight of betrayal thick in his tone.

Your heart clenched as his words landed. You hadn’t expected this, not from him. The hurt on his face stung worse than the accusation itself, and your voice caught in your throat as you tried to find something—anything—to say.

He didn’t wait. "I'm ashamed of you!" he said, the disappointment in his voice cutting deeper than the anger.

Mattheo stepped forward then, his jaw tight, his usually calm demeanor simmering with restrained fury. "Leave it, Harry," he said, his voice low and controlled, though the warning was clear.

Harry ignored him, his gaze locked on you, searching for something you weren’t sure you could give him. His anger burned, fueled by an assumption that clung to him like a shadow.

Tears threatened to rise, but you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. "And I'm afraid of you," you said, your voice trembling but firm enough to carry the weight of your fear. "Of what you've become."

Harry blinked, the fire in his eyes flickering for a moment. The silence between you felt suffocating, the unspoken truths swirling in the air. Mattheo moved closer, his hand brushing against yours briefly, a quiet reassurance.

But Harry stood rigid, the tension thick enough to choke on. He looked at you one last time, then turned away, leaving the room heavy with everything that had been said—and everything that hadn’t.